Across the World -Chronicles
by MoonRaven95
Summary: We live in a world where nations exist. And also the Hetalia manga with its fandom. There are crazy fans and those who call themselves the sensible ones. This story is snippets of lives of one of those groups called Across the World. They unknowingly meet the nations during the time when they didn't know Hetalia. Lot of human OCs. No rapid fangirls. Hopefully not OOCness. R/R plz!
1. Introduction and timeline

**A/N: Hello and don't kill me, my old fans. I'm sorry I didn't write a new chapter to my old fics but this idea has been haunting me for months and yesterday I started to write this.**

**This is series of oneshots going in chronological order. The feature different OCs and different Hetalia characters which will change also in that character thingy... In all chapters aren't even a APH character but those ones are also necessary to open the world of my OCs(*cough*Natasha*cough*). The chapters are different length, some are longer than others. ****I hope you'll like this one despite the fact I should be writing my other fics.**

**And because there is such a bunch of my OCs I'll provide you a basic timeline of them right in the beginning. This will also work as a map of what is going to happen in this fic. Naturally other thing also happened during these years but I only listed the main points. The people and things in brakets/parenthesis/whatevs. are not so imporant or won't appear or then I simply hate them(*cough*Thomas*cough*Marcus*cough*).**

**Some of you might be wondering why I'm writing this since these are such an early years of them. Simply because I want to. There will be another fics(someday) about the events in the year 2012-2014 but not yet. The early years are important. If the foundation is weak then the whole house will fall down.**

**I do not own Hetalia, I wish though... But I do own my OCs.**

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**Across the World – Hetalia Fanclub's timeline of important events**

**1985**

-Miguel Verdacia was born in Barcelona(March)

**1986 -**

**1987 -**

**1988 -**

**1989**

**-**Ethan McLain was born in Edinburgh(April)

**1990 - **

**1991**

**(**-Thomas Kent was born in London(November)**)**

**1992**

-Alonso Verdacia was born in Barcelona(June)

-François Dubois was born in Paris(July)

-Rhys Yates was born in Cardiff(October)

**1993**

-Andrius Laukaitis was born in Vilnus(April),

-Jacques Eberlein was born in Zürich(August)

**1994**

-Daniel van Reeper was born in Rotterdam(April),

-Natasha Yanovich was born in Minsk(September)

-Michael Willows was born in Quebec(December)

**1995**

-Friedrich Dietzig was born in Berlin(January)

-Miyako Watanabe was born in Tokyo(May)

-Elsa Ahola was born in Helsinki(July)

-Steven Olson was born in Malmö(October)

**1996**

-Nelli Laitela was born in Hämeenlinna(February)

-Inka Korhonen was born in Hämeenlinna(June)

-Mikayla Laukaitis was born in Utena(July)

-Chelsea Sanders was born in Galway(September)

**1997**

-January: Elsa moved along with her family to China, Beijing for a year

-Karin Dietzig was born in Berlin(March)

-April: Elsa meets China

-Meri Saarela was born in Vaasa(September),

**(**-Katerina Yanovich was born in Minsk(November)**)**

**1998**

-Luciano and Felicia Cantorini were born in Espoo(June), they have double nationality(Finnish and Italian)

-Akseli Ahola was born in Helsinki(August)

**(**-Marcus Laukaitis was born in Vilnus(October)**)**

**1999**

**(**-Nikolai Yanovich was born in Minsk(January)**)**

-Mariko **(**and Momoko**)** were born(September), Momoko died before the birth

**2000**

-The Yanovich family moves to Moscow, Russia

**2001**

-April: The van Reepers expand their flower shop business from Rotterdam to Amsterdam: Daniel meets Netherlands

-Chelsea moves to the States

**2002**

-May: Friedrich and Karin meet Germany and Prussia briefly with their friends Julie(1995) and Mona(1996) Heindrichsen

-October: Chelsea runs away from a meeting with her half-brothers: meets Scotland

**2003**

-July: Mariko lost in a department store, she and Miyako meet briefly South Korea and Japan

-Hetalia web-manga begins

**2004**

-January: Natasha, Katerina and Nikolai meet Russia

-February: Katerina, Nikolai and their mother die in a car crash due a blizzard

-A week after the funerals in Minsk Natasha runs away from home: meets Russia again, and Baltics and Kievan Rus sisters

**2005 –**

**2006**

**-** Andrius, Mikayla and Marcus spending a day in a park: they meet the Baltics and Poland

- Alonso and François get to know each other via pen pal projects in their schools

**2007**

-October: Akseli almost drowns in Salou, he and Elsa meet the Bad Touch Trio

-October 31st: Chelsea and her siblings meet England

**2008**

-The first Hetalia manga volume is published

- Miguel gets involved with Italian mafia

**2009**

-Hetalia anime starts

-Heidi is born and placed in an orphanage in Buchs(February)

-June: Felicia and Luciano Cantorini are kidnapped by mafia in Milan

-July: The twins are rescued in Naples by Miguel Verdacia and an unknown male

**2010**

-Prussia comes across with Elsa's vlog

-Chelsea and Michael start dating

-Friedrich gets to know Alonso and François **(OMG it's BTT now!)**

**2011**

-Jacques gets to know Heidi

-Miyako is at Moscow for six months and gets to know Natasha. They start a long distance relationship

-Francois opens a café in Paris with his girlfriend Lisa and Alonso

**2012**

-January: Heidi adopted by Jacques

-June: Akseli, Elsa, Felicia and Luciano have summerjobs

-Elsa and Inka in England – Starting the group

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**A/N: Okay, here was the timeline. The next chapter is... 1997! Elsa meets China! Aiyah!**

**By the way, that's Steven, Meri, Nelli and Inka in the cover pic.**


	2. 1997, April, Elsa

**A/N: Okay, here is the first chapter featuring Elsa Ahola and China! I hope you like this one. Please review.**

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"**No bunny."**

Wang Yao, the personification of China was enjoying the cool midday of April in one of the parks in his capital city, Beijing. He walked under the blossoming trees watched the locals spending time there. Old men playing chess, men and women from different ages doing tai-ji, a form of martial art which is nowadays practiced for its health benefits. There were children playing around and families on picnic. The smallest of the children were gathered around some animal cages where was bunnies and parrots and some other cute animals too. Yao sat down on the bench near the cages and followed the children talking animatedly and feeding blades of grass to the small rabbits. This made him smile. Actually children in general made him smile. It was so nice to see them getting along with each other.

Except one little girl. She was crouched next to the cage a bit apart from the other children and was intently staring at the bunny opposite her until the bunny hopped to its hidey-hole. The girl continued staring but didn't say anything. She was very young, younger than any of the other children around the cages, and her whole appearance screamed western. She had very light colored hair which looked in the sunlight almost ivory white and if she had turned around, Yao was sure she would have had light blue eyes, a bit like that German nation or the Ukrainian. The little girl was wearing a pair of dark blue sweater pants and pinkish red sweat shirt. Someone would've called the color old rosa and made Yao think who would dress such a young girl in such a dull color. And why she had left alone? There were Chinese children about her age in the park but they were firmly by their parents' side. He looked at the side to the other benches to see if there were any foreigners but saw none. Only one middle-aged Chinese woman watching the children. She was probably a nanny. Maybe she was the one watching after the little girl. Yao turned sideways on his seat on the stone bench and laid down papers, some ink and a paint brush. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day to write something on calligraphy or paint a scene.

"Méiyǒu pupu."

Yao looked down next to him. And there she was. The little foreigner staring at him with her surprisingly dark, greyish blue eyes. She also had quite dark eyebrows which didn't clash her so blond hair and thankfully didn't look like the Opium's – England's – facial caterpillars.

"Qǐngwèn, shì shénme?_(Excuse me, what?)_" The nation asked gently. He had understood the first part of her speech, it was his language afterall! 'Méiyǒu' meant 'there is not' but the last word remained puzzling him.

"Méiyǒu pupu." The girl repeated in Chinese.

"Pupu?" Yao repeated in turn. The word was somewhat flat in his ears. It had pressure on the first syllable but otherwise it lacked tones which were so common in his language.

"Pupu." The girl pointed the cages where the rabbit was still hiding.

"Ah, tùzǐ!_(a rabbit)_"

The girl was thoughtful for moment before nodding. "Shì de!_(Yes/That's right!)_"

"Aiyah, she is so cute!" China smiled at her while she looked at the blank paper on the bench. "What's your name, little one?" **(This is Chinese from now on, btw. I don't want to butcher my fic or the Chinese language by using google-trnsl.)**

"Elsa." The girl smiled to him. That was very western name.

"Elsa, it's time to go home." The Chinese woman had gotten up from the other bench and walked to them, pushing a stroller in front of her.

"Ā yí -täti!" Elsa turned around and ran to the woman who lifted her up easily. Yao tilted his head a bit. There it was again. A Chinese word, this time meaning 'aunt' or 'nanny', and then another word added to it.

"I hope Elsa wasn't a bother." The woman smiled while letting Elsa still be on the ground for a while. It seemed that the girl was very active and would've squirmed out of lap anyways. She reminded Yao a bit of Im Yong Soo when he was younger.

"Not at all, she is delightful. So full of life." Yao smiled and introduced himself. The woman introduced herself too and told Yao she was working as a nanny for the girl's family, the Ahola's from Finland, who had moved a couple of months ago to Beijing. Both of the parents were working so a nanny was needed. Especially when the girl herself was approximately only one and half years old.

During the conversation Elsa and grown bored and took the attention back to herself by climbing on Yao's lap. She leaned her back against the man's chest and looked up at him with those blue orbs of hers. Yao couldn't help but squeal internally. It seemed the woman opposite them was having the same thoughts since she took a polaroid camera from the stroller. The nation lifted the girl to sit on his arm. Elsa instinctively fisted the front of his traditional red shirt, which this time didn't have _that_ oversized sleeves, to balance herself.

"Elsa, look here!" The woman held up the camera and when the girl looked there, she took two photos which were instantly ready. Yao took the photos from the woman and smiled at them.

"Minä!" Elsa tried to grab them.

"Elsa, you get one of them and let's give Mr. Wang the other one." The nanny explained as she took a pen and wrote the date(the 24th April 1997), the place(the X park, Beijing, China) and her name there. Then Yao took the pen and wrote his name too. With a smile he gave the pen and the other photo to the woman who had put the camera away by now.

Elsa yawned and snuggled against Yao.

"Oh, take care of yourself, Elsa. Awww, you are so cute!" Yao hugged the girl tightly before letting the nanny take her and place her into the stroller.

"Xièxié, zàijiàn…_(Thank you, bye bye…)_" The little girl muttered sleepily. The woman waved a goodbye too and they left. Yao smiled and looked at the photo. Elsa was truly cute. The background was full of flowers which looked so beautiful behind her. Today he hadn't gotten anything done but who cared. It was his day off. And meeting with that little girl had been more than enough.

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**A/N: I guess some explanation and translations are in order now. Elsa's character is based on me and I indeed lived in China when I was a bit over one years old. I've heard that during that time I could indeed speak and understand Chinese but I have no idea how much. I've forgotten about all of it. But I do know that I once said "Meiyou pupu"(sorry the lack of accents now).**

**Finnish:**

**pupu - a bunny, a cute name for a rabbit, notmally it would be 'jänis'**

**täti - aunt, I still call my nanny from back then 'A yi -täti', before I thought A yi was her name. I still don't know her real name...**

**minä - I, literally just I**

**The Chinese parts were already translated weren't they? I there is something to ask, just do so.**

**Okay, this was about it about this chapter. The next one should come soon enough. It will be about Miyako and Mariko. No nation, sorry.**

**Please review btw! I'd like to know what you thought about this chapter.**


	3. 1999, September, Miyako

**A/N: ooookay, no reviews from the previous chapter. fine. maybe I published it during a wrong time of a day. I hate time differences... Or then no one liked it. *sulk* But I'm nice anyways and give you next one. I hope you like this one more...**

* * *

**Beautiful night child, True village child and Peach tree child**

**Miyako, Mariko to Momoko**

September 15th. This was the day. The day four-year-old Miyako Watanabe had been waiting for since the beginning of February when she heard she was going to get a little sibling. Later she heard it was going to be two little siblings. Two little sisters! They'd be named Mariko and Momoko. And today was the day they were going to be born. Miyako had been a night already at her mother's sister's place while her father was at the hospital with her mother. Auntie Aiko was nice and the previous day had been spent by Miyako telling her what the little girl would play with her new little sisters.

She went to sleep with a smile on her face, excited about tomorrow or the day after that. Depending how long the birth would take. She had heard that it could take a long time. But she could wait. As long as she'd meet her little siblings.

* * *

It was around midday next day when her father called from the hospital. The labor had taken the whole night. Aiko talked in the phone but didn't let Miyako hear. That was the first time she had a feeling something was wrong. Actually the girl had woken in the middle of the night with an uneasy feeling in her stomach but had though she had eaten something inappropriate. She was very mature for her age but for some reason – or exactly because of that – she couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't like it should have been. And there the feeling was again. Miyako gulped inaudibly while her aunt talked in the phone quietly. Finally the receiver of the landline was placed down.

"Is everything alright?" The girl asked. Aiko turned around and wiped the corners of her eyes.

"Hai, Miya-chan. Let's go to meet your parents." The woman forced a smile on her face and picked the girl up. Not a single word about her siblings. Miyako's stomach churned uncomfortably.

* * *

The hospital was white and light blue and light green and a bit light silvery grey. The only brighter colors were from the visitors' clothes, like Miyako's bright red skirt, and some fruit basket deliveries the nurses were bringing to some rooms. Miyako held tight on her aunt's hand as they walked towards the room where the girl's mother was now.

Aiko knocked on the door then they stepped in. Miyako peeked behind her aunt into the room. Her mother was half sitting on the bed a bundle on her arms. Only one baby shaped bundle. Miyako noticed she had cried and fearfully looked at her father to see if he was holding the other bundle. He wasn't and he seemed also very sad. Miyako's stomach was hurting and she felt like she was being strangled.

"Miyako-chan, come here." Her mother said. "Come and greet Mari-chan."

"Where is Momo-chan?" Came the reply. A suffocating dead silence landed into the room.

"Momo-chan… she is with obaa-san and ojii-san." Her father offered weakly. The girl's head snapped towards him. She knew her father's parents lived far away and her mother's parents were dead. Miyako knew instantly what had happened.

"But come and greet Momo-chan." Her mother tried again. This time she looked like she was starting to cry again.

"No."

"No, why not?" Aiko asked. she tried her best not to start crying too. After listening Miyako's plans of spending time with her little sisters… Only to see how everything that was to be shattered in a matter of hours.

"No! I won't greet Mariko!" The use of the full name of the baby seemed to wake the adults seeing the girl's distressed state. "I hate her! Mariko… Mariko killed Momo-chan!"

And with that Miyako ran out of the room.

* * *

Even weeks later and after Momoko's funerals Miyako still refused to make any contact with Mariko. The little girl was always shooting evil glares at her infant sister whenever they were in the same room or then just plainly ignored her. The parents of the two weren't too happy about their eldest behavior but nothing they tried made her change her mind and attitude towards the baby.

There was also another thing that bothered Miyako. And that was her parents. After the funerals they had started to act like Momoko had never existed in their lives and after a couple of sleepless nights, the girl had caught them discussing how handful one child was. How they had forgotten how much work Miyako had been as a baby when she had grown such a mature young girl and how they wondered if they'd survived at all with twin girls. This made Miyako scared. What her parents would've done if Momoko had stayed alive? All sort of horrible thoughts went around her head and she retreated quickly back into her room. It was never good to be caught from eavesdropping.

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It was quite rainy and chilly November evening when the final turnaround of Miyako's thoughts happened. Her father was at the office, being a boring and career-oriented white collar worker of a traditional Japanese family while the wife stayed home. The wife in question in the other hand had passed out in exhaustion on the sofaright after changing the toddler's nappy. Mariko had been quite a handful during the past week, tiring the woman and not letting her give any attention on the eldest. Not that the attention had been much on her anyways after the baby's birth…

Miyako walked into the living room, a coloring book in her hands. She was planning to color at least five pictures properly today while lying on her stomach on her special spot on the tatami. The special spot on which Mario had been placed repeatedly to play with her toys. And even now Mariko was lying on her back on the carpet and trying to pull her socks off. Not much success in that business. In either business. The elder of the two walked quietly to the infant until she was standing right behind her head. Mariko looked up. Her chocolate brown eyes locked with Miyako's almost black ones and she cooed. An involuntary smile crept on Miyako's face and her usually so cold stare directed on the baby softened too.

"Konnichiwa, Riko-chan." She said to the baby who giggled adorably. She decided not to use the same name of endearment than her parents did. Miyako sat down on the floor by Mariko's head and stroked gently the tuft of dark brown – almost black – hair she had.

"_Momo-chan would have probably looked the same. They were supposed to be identical after all…"_ Miyako thought. Suddenly Mariko crunched her face and...

"Acho!" The sneeze was short and cute. Not snot came out of her nose. But she did give out a shiver. Miyako frowned. The baby was cold. Little Mariko was feeling cold on the floor. What should she do? The girl looked at the stairs that led to the upstairs. They weren't too high. Maybe she could make it with the baby.

"Okay, Riko-chan, time for a… trip." She decided since the toddler couldn't walk and neither of them were going to climb of crawl them. The four-year-old got on her feet and with all the strength she could muster she lifted the roughly two-months-old toddler up and on her lap. The baby was heavy!

Slowly and carefully the pair made their way to the stairs and up them. Time to time Miyako had to sit down on them but never did she let go of her little sister. And after five minutes of struggling they finally made it to the upper floor. Miyako let out a sigh of relief: now it would be a bit easier. Hopefully.

* * *

In the nursery Miyako had to finally let go of the baby. She placed Mariko on the floor, being careful with the head, before heading to the infant's bed. Mariko watched her big sister's doings in interest, making incoherent but cute sounds sometimes. Miyako found herself smiling again as she lifted up the edge of the baby's bed. Now she had a straight access to the level of the mattress in the bed. She fetched Mariko and placed her on her stomach in the middle of the mattress before placing a blanket over her and pulling the edge back down. Mariko stared at her with wide eyes and cooed again.

"Kawaii…" Miyako muttered before dashing to her room. On her last birthday she had gotten a set of stuffed plushies which were different kind of fruits and vegetables. She fetched the peach of them and ran back to the nursery.

"Kore wa… Kore _ga_ momo desu._(This is… _This_ is peach.)_" She told the baby, holding out the peach-plushie. Mariko giggled and her left hand waved in the air. "Anata no imouto wa Momoko desu._(Your little sister is Momoko.)_"

A smile. Miyako sighed before smiling back. Babies didn't understand. Maybe they didn't need to yet. That's what older siblings were for. On that spot she decided to be the best big sister in the world for Mariko. For Momo-chan's sake.

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**A/N: here, please review. the next chapter will be up tomorrow I guess. It's about Natasha. No nations there either, sorry.**


	4. 2000, ?, Natasha

**A/N: I'm still here no worries! Thanks for the fave(1). Now we can dive into the world of Natasha and her siblings. Sudden changes are not nice things, right? At least I wouldn't want to hear about news like this in such a short notice... What news? Read and find out. ;)**

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"**JA chaču dadomu."**

"Što_(What)_!?" A pair of little hands slammed against the surface of a wooden kitchen table. Six-year-old Natasha Yanovich stared in surprise and anger at her parents. Three-year-old Katerina looked up from her food at her sister and then turned to look at her parents. As she moved her head, the two pairs of bells tied on her braids made a tiny jingle. Their father watched the both of them.

"Natasha, sit down." He ordered his eldest while his wife was busy fuzzing over with one-year-old Nikolai who was learning to sit in a highchair. Natasha remained standing though.

"No, not before you explain this. Why in earth would we move to Russia? Russia of all places!" The hands left the table only to slam down again.

"The place I work for needs more people to the main office. The salary is better there and they have offered us already an apartment. And I've accepted." The man explained.

"But…Rasija_(Russia).._." Natasha spat the name like it had brought a foul taste into her mouth.

"It won't be that bad, darling. I'm sure you'll make new friends there and the things won't be that different." The girl's mother tried to console her.

"Except new language, new places, new people, new weather." Natasha listed before shaking her head so her ashy-blonde ponytail whipped side to side. "I'm going to hate that place." She sneered before running back to the room she shared with Katerina.

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A month later Natasha was standing in the middle of her room which was filled with boxes. It was another change too. She had her own room which she didn't need to share with Katerina. Back in Minsk she would've been thrilled but now… With a defeated sigh, Natasha started unpacking. At least she could try to make her room look as much like her old one. Without Katerina's stuff is was hard though.

"JA chaču dadomu._(I want to go home.)_" That was the first sentence she spoke since setting her feet on the Russian soil. And ever since leaving Minsk and Belarus, a scowl had been present on her face. A scowl that wouldn't leave permanently for a long time.

* * *

"Siastra_(sister)_?" Came from the door. It was opened to a crack and a small amount of light poured into Natasha's darkened room. The girl rolled over under the covers and looked to the direction of the light.

"Kat? What is it?" She asked, the scowl leaving her face for the first time in the day and being replaced by worry.

"I couldn't sleep." Katerina whispered and fiddled with the hem of her light pink nightgown. "The room is too big."

"Come here." Natasha lifted her duvet and Katerina slid into the room and next to her big sister.

"I want to go home." The little girl sniffed and Natasha pulled her closer.

"Me too, Kat. Me too…" The elder sibling sighed and glanced out of her window that didn't have any curtains yet. The sky outside wasn't even properly dark, just murky and dull grey. She already hated the city. Actually she hated the whole country and would hate it even more during the years to come.

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**A/N: It was short, I know. These all are going to be kinda short since these are just snippets of their lives.**

**The next one... Daniel, tulips and the Netherlands himself! Stay tuned for tomorrow.**

**R/R plz and Happy New Years to everyone! To those who are already living the year 2014 and to those(like me) to whom it's still ahead for a couple of more hours. :D**


	5. 2001, April, Daniel

**A/N: Happy New years! This is going to be one though year for me. Matriculation examinations so I have no idea how much I'll actually write... And after those is trying to get into some university...**

**But now the newest chapter! Daniel and the Netherlands! I really hope I got Netherlands in character I have never before written him. Well, I have never before written majority of other Hetalia characters since this is only my third APH fic...**

**I ended up giving Netherlands the name Tim Morgens. I did think about other names too that have appeared in fics I've read(Abel, Lars...) and the one I used in my fic Au Revoir(Willem) but decided on Tim. Morgens was picked up from somewhere...**

* * *

**Welcome to the Secret Garden**

"_Pink tulips, red tulips,  
Orange tulips, yellow tulips.  
White tulips, purple tulips,  
Do you see the spring is here?"_

Tim Morgens slowed his fast pace down a bit as he heard the song.

"_Pink roses, red roses,  
Orange roses, yellow roses.  
White roses, purple roses,  
Do you want to show you care?"_

The source of the song was a young boy, maybe seven or so, walking in the midst of the people walking by the one of the many channels of Amsterdam. He had unruly blackish hair which was spiky and floppy at the same time and hazel brown eyes. The nation chuckled mentally. The boy's hair looked like that Dane's except it was wrong color and seemed to stay like that naturally.

"_Pink and white mallows,  
blue forget-me-nots,  
violets, sunflowers and chrysanthemums.  
Welcome to the Secret Garden."_

The boy hopped on the stone ledge. He had a bunch of different colored tulips on his arms. People who had already slowed down to pay attention on him gathered around(including Tim) as he continued his 'song'.

"_Pink tulip; I care for you, have a good luck."_ He told an elderly woman as he gave the flower in question to her.

"_Red tulip; lots of love. Your loved one sure is one lucky guy to have you."_ A woman in mid-twenties with a young about the same age and an engagement ring in her finger blushed bright red and hid her smiling face on her soon-to-be husband's shoulder.

"_Orange tulip; go on. Don't doubt your chances and skills."_ That one went to a business man in a suit and with a bicycle.

"_Yellow tulip; you have a beautiful smile, brighten that day of your dearest."_ A little girl beamed up at the boy as she took the flower hugged then her mother's legs, smiling up at her too.

"_White tulip; there's peace, I'm sure of it. If something ends it doesn't mean something new couldn't begin."_ The boy took the hand of a woman in a mourning dress and pressed the tulip into her hand, sincerity on his face. The woman was teary eyed already and downright bursted into tears as she accepted the flower. She hugged the boy.

"Dank u, dank je wel._(Thank you, thank you so much)_" She whispered before straightening up and wiping her tears. She had a grateful smile on her face.

"Bent u welkom._(You are welcome)_" The boy smiled before lifting up the last tulip he had: a purple one. He paused deep in thought.

"_Purple tulip; empire's rise and fall, the cycle is repeated over and over again. Like the seasons of year. The spring always comes."_ He smiled and offered the flower to Tim who took it in slight puzzlement. After all, the boy had no way to know who or what he was: that personification of Netherlands.

The nation's musings were interrupted when the boy stood up on the ledge.

"_There's all kinds of flowers  
with all kinds of meanings.  
From Rotterdam to Amsterdam I came to give them to you.  
Welcome to the Secret Garden."_

The audience clapped and gave the boy smiles before they slowly retreated to their destinations. The boy smiled back to them and when the traffic by the channel had returned to the normal among the pedestrians, he started walking away on the ledge, whistling the tune he had just sang. Tim looked at the tulip he had gotten from him. It had a little card attached to it.

_**Van Reepers' Secret Garden  
Tulips and other flowers to all occasions**_

The address was beneath the text. Maybe he could go to see the place. It wasn't too far after all.

* * *

The flower shop wasn't indeed too far, right beside the channel that ran past/around The National Maritime Museum, Het Scheepvaartmuseum. The owners seemed to live above the shop thus had a straight view to the old and magnificent ship on dock in front of the museum in question. The shop itself wasn't too big. The front was colored dark green and the name of the shop was written on the gold cursive above the window. A light violet tulip was curled around the loopy text from the left. The door above three steps was a bit deeper in the wall than the window but was open.

A young woman in her late twenties was organizing willow baskets full of flowers in front of the shop. She had the same blackish hair than the boy from earlier which she had pulled on a loose bun on her neck. Over her clothes she had pulled a dark green apron that had that shop's name on the same golden cursive printed on the chest. Tim started walking towards the shop right when the woman straightened up. She spotted him almost immediately and gave him a dazzling smile. That was rare. Usually people and nations alike got intimidated by him. He was so tall and his looks… well, let's say that they weren't helping the situation at all.

"Goedemorgen, meneer_(Good morning, mister)_. Coming to see flowers?" She asked politely.

"Yes, I see you are new to this place." Tim bowed his head in a slight greeting.

"Definitely." The woman laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. Tim could see where the boy had gotten his friendly and open attitude. "We opened this shop last week. My husband and I thought we could expand our business from Rotterdam."

"I see… Are you popular there then?"

"Three shops there at the moment. Our employees are taking a good care of them. But now I'm being rude. Would you like to buy something?"

"I intended only to look… since I already have this." Tim showed the tulip he had gotten earlier.

"Ah, you've met Daniel then. My son. He has been attracting customers with his little song. You are the first one to get a purple tulip though…"

* * *

On an evening a couple of days later Tim was by a channel once again. Although in a city like this they were near to impossible to avoid. He was leaning against a railing and smoking his pipe. Watching his city calmly. He was enjoying himself when the metal railing vibrated annoyingly against his lower back and thighs. He looked to his right, ready to shoot a death glare and hopefully scare witless whoever had disturbed his peace. Instead he was met by a curious gaze of a pair of hazel eyes. The personification of Netherlands blinked slowly. It was the same boy than with the tulips, Daniel van Reeper.

"You are the man whom I gave the purple tulip." Daniel announced when he had carefully climbed on the fence and sat down, right next to the man.

"Surely there's more of those…" Tim said, noting how the boy's blackish hair didn't seem to stay still in the slight evening breeze.

"Nope, you're the only one." The boy grinned.

"And why's that?" The man exhaled the smoke that rose up to the darkening sky.

"I dunno. They just didn't seem suitable. Moeder says I'm a good judge of people. I'm not quite sure what did she mean with that… I mean… I'm just seven years old."

"Well, sometimes kids see things on other people that adults don't see. That's because other people underestimate kids and don't take them seriously. But kids are honest. Adults are not."

"Yeah… I s'ppose so…" Daniel agreed slowly and they fell into a companionable silence.

* * *

**A/N: This was short! I'm sorry! I thought this was longer. It looks longer on Word... oh well...**

**Please review! The next ones are Friedrich and Karin(+Julie and Mona) who shall meet the two Germans! See ya then!**


	6. 2002, May, Friedrich&Karin

**A/N: Sorry for taking my time. This is a slightly longer than the previous ones and I might have put more thought into this. Friedrich is my baby and thus one of my favourite OCs.**

**There was a question about the song Daniel sang int he previous chapter. It is a real song in the way that it has lyrics and a made up melody but it is not a real song in the way that I made it up completely. :)**

**But now let's meet Friedrich, Karin and their friends Julie and Mona(who look a bit like younger versions of Nyo!Prussia and Nyo!Germany btw...)**

* * *

**Of evil birds, violins and scraped knees**

Boring! That was the first thought Prussia had when he was being dragged into a business meeting by his brother. The ex-nation couldn't understand why he had to be present. Yeah, Herr Dietzig was pretty cool person but the businesses itself were so tedious! So unawesome. Almost as unawesome as the aristocratic prick of a nation who went by the name Austria. But nothing could be more unawesome than him just like nothing could be more awesome than the Awesome Prussia himself!

"Gilbert, hurry up. We don't want to be late." Germany called from upstairs. The elder nation sighed and trudged the stairs up, straightening his tie. What an annoying piece of fabric…

"Ja, ja, Westen… Where are we meeting him?"

"At his home. Herr Dietzig keeps a lot of his papers at home and works from there a lot so we'll talk at his home study."

"Works home? Who ze hölle would take work home?" Gilbert muttered. "Apart from you, Westen, of course." He added after seeing his brother's look.

"He looks after his children when they come home while his wife is on her late shifts at hospital, I heard." Ludwig explained, opening the front door and letting his older brother walk out before locking it after them.

"Kids? Are they awesome?" The ex-nation glanced back at the younger.

"I don't know. I haven't met them." The two headed to the car and Prussia – much to his dismay – sat on the passenger seat. He looked out of the window as Germany drove the car through Berlin. It would be quite a long journey…

* * *

They stepped outside the car by some tall tower block buildings on a wealthy area. Gilbert looked up at them. He had never before bothered with this neighborhood. Too prissy and high classed… He was so deep in thoughts he barely even noticed how a yellow ball of fluff landed on his shoulder.

"Gilbird! Where were you mein awesome vögel?" He grinned at the bird who chirped in reply.

"Östen! Don't lag behind! I'm not going to wait!"

"J-Ja, ja, Westen!" Gilbert jogged after Ludwig who had already walked a good ten meters towards the buildings.

* * *

The meeting was, like Prussia had predicted, boring. He did practically nothing there, only sat on a surprisingly comfy chair and flipped through some technology magazine that had been lying on a small coffee table. Gilbird was looking at the pictures too and chirping occasionally. Herr Dietzig had been pretty cool to let the bird come into the apartment too. And while talking about Herr Dietzig… where were his kids then?

Right on cue there was rattling of keys by the front door. The three males in the study looked up from what they had been doing.

"That must be Friedrich and Karin. They were playing in the park with their friends." Herr Dietzig stated, straightening his back. "Excuse me…"

"It's alright. We could use a short break." Ludwig placed a folder on the desk.

"Can we meet the kids?" Gilbert asked. Ludwig shot him a look but Herr Dietzig laughed.

"Sure, they'll be delighted." The man waved them to follow along the short corridor to the large quite open space that had the kitchen, dining area, living room and the hall together. The front door was half open and didn't seem to open any more.

"Dummkopf, don't hang on the door handle, grab the edge and open it." A boy's voice snapped tiredly.

"Eh? Oh…" The door opened now and two children stepped in. Well, the girl was on the boy's back and the boy stepped in.

"Hallo, Vater." The boy greeted and after kicking his shoes off he walked to the couch and dropped the girl on it. He had somewhat tired expression on his face.

"Uff… Hallo, Vati!" The girl greeted cheerily. She in the other hand wasn't tired at all.

"Hallo, Karin." Herr Dietzig greeted his daughter and when seeing his son's face asked: "What happened this time Friedrich?"

"She fell and scraped her knees." Came the short reply.

"It as that evil bird's fault." Karin put in. "But I didn't cry at all." She added proudly.

"Sure you didn't." Friedrich rolled his eyes.

"Und?" The children's father urged the boy continue.

"She made me carry her here."

"To the sixth floor." It wasn't a question.

"The elevators were in use already."

A smirk appeared on the Prussian's face and he followed the scene to unfold. This kid was no pushover despite carrying his little sister up the all six flights of stairs. He was smart but apparently his father didn't really see it yet. Well, the kid was only… seven? East German, yeah, he was seven. Karin in the hand… five.

"And what have I said about listening Karin's every whim?" Herr Dietzig sighed.

"The alternative was to drag her here by and listen to her whining endlessly and bug me the entire up-coming summer for being meanie. I merely chose the lesser evil of the two." Friedrich shrugged.

"Okay… tend you sister's knees, I'll go make you some sandwiches." The man sighed yet and again went to the kitchen area. Friedrich walked to Karin and pulled the legs of her lilac shorts to reveal her bloodied knees.

"I wouldn't have whined…" The girl grumbled.

"Yes, you would've." The boy answered and took forward a first aid pack on the lower shelf of a coffee table. It was clear that this was a frequent occurrence in this family. Gilbert and Ludwig continued observing them as neither had noticed the two nations yet. It was handy talent for the nations actually. Not to be noticed by their people when needed. Of course that could also go overboard like in Canada's case when he wouldn't be downright _seen_ by his fellow nations. America's attention seeking attitude was the other factor of his 'invisibleness'.

But back to the kids. They actually were quite different by appearance and personality. Friedrich had dark greyish hair and ice blue eyes while Karin had orangish brown hair and bright green eyes. Their different personalities were reflected in their clothes too. Friedrich was wearing a burgundy t-shirt with a pine green print in the chest and pair of black capris. Karin in the other hand had poison green t-shirt that went nicely with her eyes but not so nicely with her shorts(the light lilac color).

"There. Fized." Friedrich straightened up. "Now you'll stay away from animals."

"But that bird was evil! Not cool at all." Karin whined.

"What exactly happened?" Ludwig asked them. The kids' heads snapped up.

"Who are you?" Friedrich asked, tilting his head on the right a bit. It wasn't an impolite question, merely curious.

"I'm Ludwig Beildschmidt. This is my brüder Gilbert. We are here to talk about business with…"

"Vati. Ja, we know." Karin interrupted. "He said that he'd do business today."

"…Pleasure to meet you." Friedrich decided after a pause in his breath. "Friedrich Dietzig, that's Karin, meine kleine Schwester."

"So, what happened in the park?" Gilbert asked this time, crouching on the kids' level.

"Nothing special. Julie just urged Karin to catch any animal she happened to see in the park and this particular bird just happened not to like the idea." The boy shrugged. His eyes shifted to right and towards the floor and a faint frown appeared between his eyes. All in all his presence became distant for a second before he refocused on his surroundings. The change didn't go unnoticed by Gilbert though.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

"Yeah… I'm fine." Friedrich nodded with a smile. "Say, you are the older brother, right?"

"Ja! You are right! How did you guess? Was it my awesomeness?"

"I just could tell."

"Was it der Alte_(the old man)_ again?" Karin asked, appearing by Friedrich's shoulder. No one could reply before she jerked back and…

"Waaaaah! That's the evil bird!" She was dramatically pointing at Gilbird who was perching on the Prussian's shoulder.

"What?" Gilbert asked, dumbfounded. Ludwig let out a suffering sigh behind him.

"That's the evil bird that made me trip. And then attacked me." Karin elaborated, furiously still pointing at the bird.

"Only because you were stupid enough to listen to Julie. She is already so annoying and stupid on her own and then you have to mimic her on everything." Friedrich muttered.

"Hey, Julie is cool. And I'm going to be cool too."

_**Ding-dong, ding-dong. Knock-knock-knock. Bang bang.**_

"Nein…"

"It's Julie!" Karin ran to the front door, Friedrich hot on her heels, both forgetting the nations. The girl opened the door fully and the two men could get a glimpse of two girls at the corridor before Friedrich pulled the door back closed. It didn't close though and two pairs of hand were seen by the edge of the door.

"Thanks for the help Mona." A voice said at the corridor.

"I only prevented you to break your fingers." A younger voice answered and Friedrich let go of the door handle in dismay.

"What do you want Julie?" He frowned.

"Come in of course." The older of the two girls there grinned. Both of the girls had blond hair and it was easy to tell they were siblings even though there were some significant differences in their appearance. The older girl's hair was longer and almost platinum blonde, tied on two low ponytails and letting her bangs hang on her face. The younger in the other hand had pinned her bangs a top of her head with at least half a dozen bobby pins which made her look like she had a small metal plate on her head. Otherwise her sunny blond hair barely even touched her shoulders. Both of the girls had sky blue eyes.

"Julie lost or forgot the home key and no one is at home at the moment." The younger girl explained.

"Keys are not cool…"

"And obviously you couldn't possibly let me take care of it."

"You are younger!"

"And people keep asking how come I'm the more mature one." The younger girl, Mona, deadpanned and crossed her arms on her chest.

"Why don't your parents give you two keys?" Ludwig asked. The girls looked up.

"Because she would forget the first one home and then bully me give the second one to her and then lose it."

"Hey, it has never happened!" Julie protested.

"But could happen."

"You know I'd really like to bash some sense into your head, Julie, and I even have a sufficient tool in my mind but I doubt it would have any effect on a thickhead like you." Friedrich sighed, letting the two girls in.

"And what would it be?" Mona asked.

"A frying pan."

"What!?" Not only Julie but also Karin and Gilbert exclaimed. Mona chortled and Friedrich smirked at their faces.

"A frying pan?" Julie stared at the boy.

"Why not? A friend of mine told me that his friend is constantly being hit by a frying pan but it has no other effect than the fact he is avoiding that girl with all his might." Friedrich shrugged and walked to the kitchen. His father was putting the plates on the table.

"Hello, girls. I made sandwiches for you too. After you have eaten I'll call to your parents and tell that you don't have the key."

"Okay. Danke Herr Dietzig." Mona smiled as the four kids seated themselves around the table.

"Who the heck is this friend of yours, Fritzie? This isn't the first time you mention him." Julie grumbled before attacking her sandwich.

"Don't call me that." Friedrich muttered.

"He is a ghost!" Karin announced. "We can never see him but Friedrich can."

"Sounds more like eine imaginäre Freund." Mona thought aloud. "Ghosts don't exist."

"He is a friend of mine. That's all you need to know." The boy stated.

"He teached Friedrich to play violin." Karin continued.

"It's taught." Mona muttered.

"Hey, isn't that the evil bird from earlier." Julie asked, pointing over Karin's head at Gilbird.

"Ja, not cool." The youngest of them mumbled into her food.

"Hey, Gilbird is cool!" Gilbert protested. "He is awesome. Almost as awesome as the awesome me."

"You know if you use too much that word it will lose its effect." Friedrich pointed out calmly. The Prussian stopped to look more closely at him. He remembered those words. Old Fritz had told it to him all those years ago… So was it possible that this kid could quote him word to word. Especially something that had been said only to the nation. There hadn't been anyone else around. Could it really be just a coincidence?

"Wise words, Friedrich." Ludwig chuckled. "If only mein brüder would listen to them."

"Hey, Westen, I'm listening." Gilbert huffed.

"Do you gentlemen want anything to drink?" Herr Dietzig asked the two nations.

"Something else than beer, Östen." Ludwig added with a glare towards the elder of the two.

"Water it fine then…" Prussia grumbled.

"Same for me." Germany nodded. Herr Dietzig smiled to them and fetched two glasses he filled with water then.

* * *

While a conversation about ordinary things spurred between Ludwig and Herr Dietzig, Gilbert flopped down on a chair between Mona and Karin, his back towards the other adults.

"Hey, kinder… tell the awesome me something awesome."

"Like?" Karin questioned.

"About yourselves for example. You all seem pretty cool kids."

"Good, because I'm definitely cool!" Julie announced.

"Shut up before _I_ go to fetch the frying pan." Mona said quietly. Julie shut her mouth immediately.

"I go first!" Karin raised her hand in the air. "I'm Karin Dietzig. I'm five years old. My birthday is the 15th of March and a bit before I was born we moved here. I really like football and dogs."

"Six years…" Friedrich mumbled, making the other occupants around the table glance at him. "On the same date six years earlier The Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany came into effect. I like to find out what important historical events happened on our birthdates." The boy explained with a shrug.

"History geek…" Julie and Karin muttered.

"There is nothing wrong being interested in history." Mona elbowed her.

"Anyways… I'm next because I'm cool." Julie decided. "I'm Julie Heindrichsen, seven years old. My birthday is the 25th of February and-."

"That's not a cool date." Gilbert put in. "Not awesome at all."

"How so?" Julie challenged. Mona glanced at Friedrich.

"…Suum cuique." The boy muttered.

"What?" The platinum blonde was practically fuming when she didn't know what was going on. "Friedrich spit it. What is so bad about that date?"

"Nothing? A lot of different things have happened during the course of history on that date." The boy tried but shut up when both Julie and Gilbert glared at him. "Okay, I guess the event our dear guest is talking about is the abolition _de jure_ of Prussia."

"Prussia? What's that?" Karin frowned, making Gilbert gape at her and Ludwig hold back his laugh behind them.

"Karin, even you aren't that oblivious." Julie laughed while the other two kids sighed.

"She isn't oblivious, just young." Friedrich defended his sister. "Don't worry, Schwester, you'll learn more when you get to start school. And if you are interested in history you might even remember what they'll teach you."

"Friedrich, did something happen on my birthday?" Mona asked quietly while Julie was laughing her head off and Karin frowning in confusion. Gilbert decided to ignore the other two in favor of observing Friedrich and Mona.

"It was the 3rd of October, right?" Mona nodded. "Well, there was the reunification of Germany 1990."

"That's great." The girl beamed.

"Yeah."

"What about you, kid?" Prussia asked.

"Me? The 24th January, the same date than Friedrich der Große was born." The boy grinned.

_Coincidence? Must be… because he can't be… He simply can't be… _Gilbert stared at the boy. Other people were chattering around him and Friedrich was also talking to Mona now but the ex-nation heard none of this. He simply sat still, stunned.

* * *

"-bert… Gilbert!"

"Ja, Westen?" The albino's head snapped towards his little brother who stood in the way towards the study they had been earlier.

"I'm going back to talk with Herr Dietzig. Don't cause any trouble."

"Ja, ja. Don't worry brüder." Prussia laughed and the blonde walked away. Now the ex-nation noticed that he was sitting alone by the kitchen table. The kids seemed to have gone to their own ways.

"Hey, red-eyes…" Gilbert glanced around. Karin was standing where Ludwig had stood earlier.

"Hey, orange-head." The albino grinned.

"Do you want to see a ghost?" The girl asked, unfazed by the spontaneous nick-name.

"A ghost? Friedrich's Freund, ja?"

"Yup. When Friedrich talked for the first time about Old man, Vati got worried and asked me to keep an eye on him. I found out that it wasn't an actual person who he met but some sort of ghost only he could see. Or I don't know is Old man a ghost. He taught Friedrich to play violin…"

"Und?" Gilbert frowned.

"Do you want to see him? Friedrich won't notice. You can take the evil bird with you too if it won't get us noticed."

"Gilbird isn't evil." The Prussian grumbled but got up to follow the girl.

"Sorry about the earlier by the way." Karin said quietly when they headed towards the boy's room.

"About what?"

"About not knowing what Prussia is. Friedrich told me. He told me too that our grandmother from mother's side was Prussian an-anc-…"

"Ancestry?"

"That's the word! But he didn't say anything else so I don't know…"

"It's alright kleine Frau."

"Here we are…" Karin crouched down by one of the doors which was ajar and motioned the ex-nation to do so too. "If you look at the mirror when Friedrich is playing violin you won't see his reflection but the ghost."

"Are you sure?" The albino whispered.

"Ja. If you want to get Friedrich's attention just knock on the doorframe. The ghost will disappear then but he might allow you to listen his playing." The girl said and sprinted then to the room next to the other one where the other two girls probably were. Gilbert looked at the door in front of him before standing up and opening it quietly. The room was silent since the boy playing was using an electronic violin which was attached to an amplifier which had a pair of headphones attached to it too. He was wearing those headphones so he wouldn't disturb anyone with his playing and seemed to be totally sucked into his playing. He had his eyes closed and was completely oblivious to the world around him.

Right next to him was a big full body mirror and Karin had been right. The boy's reflection wasn't seen on it even though from the angle Gilbert was watching the scene he should've been there. Instead it looked like it was completely different room at the other side of the mirror and on the place where Friedrich was supposed to stand was…

"Fritz…" Prussia breathed. He couldn't believe his eyes. Old Fritz was standing in this little boy's mirror and following his playing. Sometimes he seemed to be talking but the nation couldn't hear anything. The boy could though. Every time Fritz spoke, the kid nodded – keeping his eyes closed – but didn't stop playing. And what was the most amazing thing, Old Fritz wasn't how Prussia had last seen him: his health slowly deteriorating. He was full life in the reflection and much younger. Maybe in his thirties.

_Knock, knock_

Gilbert didn't even realize knocking. He had been just so spellbound by the sight that he didn't even notice his hand moving to knock the doorframe. The magic of the silence vanished. The reflection of the room changed. Fritz disappeared and Friedrich's image replaced it. The boy opened his eyes and looked up. He dropped the headphones off his ears.

"Oh, hello, Prussia." He smiled.

"You…"

"Der Alte Fritz is a good mentor, ja?"

"He is a good friend." The nation managed to say.

"That too."

"Can I listen?"

"Sure. I have a second set of headphones somewhere here…" The boy placed his violin on his bed and rummaged his drawer a minute before fishing out another pair of headphones. "Here." He gave them to the nation and plugged them on the amplifier. The boy put his own on his ears and picked up his violin.

"Flute Concerto No.3 in C major played with a violin." The boy said quietly and Prussia understood it was one of Old Fritz's own compositions. He sat on Friedrich's bed and closed his eyes. He could almost imagine being back at Sanssouci where his dear Fritz was playing flute.

* * *

"Preußen, nicht in der Vergangenheit zu verweilen. Freuen Sie sich._(Prussia don't dwell in the past. Look forward.)_" Those were the words the boy said when it was the albino's time to leave. The nation understood the hidden message in it. He shouldn't come back to meet the boy again. Old Fritz wanted him to move on like he had done all these years and not to cling on those days of glory. They were great to remember but they were only past and nothing could bring them back. Not even ghosts.

"Danke, kleine Fritz." He ruffled the boy's hair.

"You are the only one allowed to call me that." The kid mumbled, annoyed but smiling when he watched the two nations leave. No one else than the two heard it. No one else needed to know the truth about the Old man.

* * *

**A/N: I probably should put some translations here but all I used should be able to be understood by the context they were in. But if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. And yes I used Google translator in that last one but I double checked it and it shouldn't be too messed up...**

**The next chapter shall be about... I'm not sure. Maybe Miyako and Mariko or then something I haven't put into the timeline yet... But until next time then! Ciao!**


	7. 2002, October, Chelsea

**A/N: Hi, and some bad news. My school is starting tomorrow and I need to start seriously preparing for my Matriculation examinations. They are a Finnish thing by the end of High School. Really big tests in March. I'll try to continue my fics bit by bit and up date time to time but I also know that my mother will be breathing down my neck... But here is the newest chapter! I hope you like this.**

* * *

**Half of a family**

If someone asked the six-year-old Chelsea Sanders about her family, she'd answer it was made of halves that don't go together. She would never explain the statement and usually the matter was dropped after that. Normally she wouldn't even think about the matter but on this particular dreadful October day nothing else had been in her mind. Her family that she hated. Well, hate might be too strong word but she greatly disliked it. Just because her mother was such a…

The brunette interrupted her own train of thought. What exactly her mother was? She knew there were several insulting words one could use on the woman but she knew that her mother wasn't really any of those. She was just upset. A lot. And sought comfort from other men. And had landed Chelsea into a situation he really wanted to get rid of.

* * *

It all started ten odd years ago when her mother met the love of her life, married and got a baby boy. The kid's name was Ethan. Something happened in the marriage after that and the couple divorced in relatively good terms. Ethan stayed with his father, in Edinburgh.

Distraught, the woman had fallen on another man, a Londoner this time. They were really close but didn't get married this time. Thomas was born two years after Ethan. Problems spurred when the woman visited her first born once without telling the Londoner and it resulted the man throwing her out of his house and accusing her for cheating that never happened.

Crying, she had driven all the way to Cardiff. She couldn't understand why she wouldn't be able to see her other son whenever she wanted to. Her ex-husband was okay with it and they didn't have anything romantic between them anymore. Those woes she poured out into a pint of ale and to a gentleman sitting next to her. The man listened to her with sympathy and took her home with him since she had no other place to stay and he was a real gentleman. Unfortunately those were a disappearing kind of people. Three weeks later they were inseparable. Nine months from that and Rhys was born.

The three of them were a happy family. The couple got married and lived a good three years when a tragedy struck them. The husband died in a car crash leaving the widower and their little son on their own. The man's sister ran to help and practically adopted the boy while the woman left to Ireland, her home country, to look for a job. There she met her old flame, a childhood friend and crush from high school. In no time she was pregnant again. This time with Chelsea. The man left her immediately, leaving her heartbroken but determined to keep her child. Besides there was no chance for her to get an abort there, not that she wanted to.

The birth was a hard one but this time the woman had her family to support her. And it was important that they were there since complications afterwards made her almost lose her life. She was taken into a surgery and her womb was removed. She cried a week afterwards. It was half for relief and half for stress. But she had her beautiful baby girl now whom she wouldn't leave for any price.

* * *

The first five years of Chelsea's life were spent in Ireland. The girl loved every single moment of that didn't wish it ever to end. But the fate decided otherwise. She and her mother were to move to the United States of America and there to New York City. Some other kid would've been thrilled to live in the Big Apple but not her. She was torn from her roots and practically thrown across the ocean like a sack of potatoes. It didn't make the matter any better that on the same year happened 9/11.

Chelsea could still vaguely remember the panic everywhere. She had hidden with her friends under the tables in the kindergarten. It had been scary and she had wished so much she could've stayed in Ireland. Other things affecting the matter were how some kids ridiculed her accent and how she didn't really care about American holidays and celebrations, one of those being the 4th of July.

* * *

And this dreary day was the first time in over a year that the girl stepped on a European soil. Only that it was in Edinburgh. Her mother had managed to stay in contact with her exes and late husband's sister and had managed to arrange a meeting between them and the kids. Some people would've thought it sweet or something but in Chelsea's opinion it was merely thoughtless.

Huffing, she sat down on a bench from which she could only see green grass, depressingly grey fog and bare trees. Her half-brothers, all three of them were somewhere. At the moment Ethan was thirteen, Thomas was going to be eleven and Rhys almost ten. And then there was Chelsea, the only girl, the one to live with their mother and the one significantly younger than the others. She had met Rhys before a few times and they had… tolerated each other. That meaning that had tried their best to ignore each other. Ethan and Thomas in the other hand… She had never actually met them and at the moment they seemed to be at each other's throats every given chance.

So the girl had run away from her brothers before her own temper had taken better of her. For the third time of the day. Somehow Thomas seemed to know how to press the buttons of others and had managed to make calm and collected Rhys to explode too. The rest of the time he was acting prissy and stuck-up and all in all thought himself higher than the rest of them. After all he was an Englishman in the middle of a Scott, a Welsh and an Irish.

"What are ye doin' here lass?" A voice laced with a heavy Scottish accent asked Chelsea. The girl looked up at the speaker but looked away then and scoffed. The man wasn't fazed at all and moved to sit on the bench next to her. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a large cloud of smoke. Chelsea buried her hands into the pockets of her jacket and hid the lower half of her face into the high collar so she wouldn't need to breathe the smoke.

"What's up?" The man asked. Chelsea glanced at him again, this time looking properly at him. He seemed to be well over twenty, maybe even in his early thirties but kids weren't that good judge of age. He had bright red hair and stunningly green eyes. Over those eyes were a pair of strong eye brows but they weren't taking all the attention out of his handsome facial features. He was wearing some sort of military-styled jacket with weird shoulder straps that made a huge white 'X' in front of him. He also had matching pants to that jacket and a pair of military boots. But Chelsea couldn't be sure since she wasn't really interested in those things. She faced the other way again.

"Playin' mute? Fine with me." The man continued and looked forward, to the endless mist ahead of them.

A couple of minutes passed in silence. Chelsea gave out a shiver. The air was chilly and nippy and she didn't like it. The man glanced at her.

"Won't yer family be worried?"

"… Nah. Mham is with the other adults and… thos' halves are somewhere arguing." Chelsea replied finally.

"Yer Irish?"

"Yep."

"An' who're tha 'alves?"

"They're halves. My half-brothers. We just have the same mham."

"Dun like tham then?"

"Nay." Chelsea put a great emphasis on the word, mocking the Scottish accent the best she could. She had heard Ethan say the word a couple of times and knew the pronunciation but at the moment she couldn't have cared less. The man looked at her in surprise before chuckling.

"Know some Scottish then?"

"You listen 'nough Ethan and you're bound to pick some up."

"An' this Ethan is?"

"My eldest half-brother. Twat. Patronizes us. Has temper…" Chelsea rambled a moment before pausing to think for a second. "We have the same hair." She added with a grin.

"So you like 'im after all?"

"A bit. Definitely more than Thomas. He is a git. Thinks he's better than we. Stupid Londoner. He probably reduces the intelligence of the whole city with his mere presence. God, we need to get him out of here then!" The girl mock gasped and the man next to her laughed. "To be honest I think he is a disgrace for the whole southern part of British Isles."

"An' where 'ave you learnt such a long words?"

"TV. I don' really have anything else to do at home. I live across the Ocean."

"In Ireland?"

"No, the Atlantic, you dimwit!" The girl crossed her arms and huffed. "Thomas called me a Yankee the moment he met me today. Bloody ignorant airheaded idiot!"

"I guess the rest of yer vocabulary is also from TV."

"Yeah, or from Ethan. He ranted a couple of times to Thomas while me and Rhys watched."

"Rhys? Ye have another brother?"

"Yup, he is nice. I've met him before. He is calm and polite. A bit of a downer sometimes but kinda okay anyways. His… Tad died and he lives with his aunt."

"Halves."

"Yea. Halves."

Silence fell once again. It didn't last long though.

"But why ar' ye here then?"

"Thomas."

"Oh, but thay must be worried."

"Naw…"

"Chelsy!" A new voice shouted from distance. Chelsea turned around on the bench and saw… All of her brothers there. The one shouting was Rhys who, once spotting the girl properly, took off running towards her.

"What wer' ye saying, wee lass?" The man chuckled without turning around. Chelsea shot him a glare.

"Shut up you twit." She muttered.

"Chelsy, why did you run away like that? If mam gets to know…" Rhys panted once he was close enough.

"Don' tell her then." The girl snapped tiredly. About that time Ethan came to the bench too, dragging Thomas behind him. The Londoner was muttering curses and profanities under his breath but it seemed that he didn't dare to be very vocal about them anymore. And judging by the slight bump on his head, Ethan or Rhys had made him shut up.

"Hey, kiddo." Ethan ruffled the girl's head which made her growl and hide behind the back of the bench. "Ye got us worried."

"Hmph." Thomas scoffed and tried to twist his wrist out of Ethan's grasp. No success.

"An' no one asked ye." The eldest of the kids flipped the Londoner on the back of his head. "This is ye fault anyways."

"She is just a…" Before the almost-nine-years-old boy could continue, Rhys had made him fall flat on his butt by tripping him.

"She is my sister and you have no say in that." Welsh accent coated his otherwise perfectly pronounced English. The boy's calm demeanor was almost freezing the air. "If you have a problem with that you can complain to your father. Although he is the one who gave you that attitude."

"An' she my wee sister too." Ethan added. Thomas got on his feet with a huff, stuck his nose in the air and marched away. It would've had more effective if he hadn't slipped on the wet grass halfway out of the field. The three kids laughed and even the man sitting on the bench joined them.

"An' who ar' ye?" Ethan asked the man when they all had laughed enough at the unfortunate Londoner.

"Just a friend. Tha name is Allistor Kirkland." The man said, litting up another cigarette.

"Ethan McLain." The boy nodded. "That's Rhys Yates and the idiot who left was Thomas Kent. An' apparently ye already met Chelsea Sanders."

"Nice to meet ye all." Allistor nodded back. "Ye seem to have one messed up family."

"You said it." Rhys sighed. "Thomas is the worst sort of person I've ever met."

"I've some English friends but thay ar' nothing like Thomas." Ethan continued.

"Thus we'll stay together against him." The Welsh boy held his hand out to Chelsea how took it, climbing over the bench. Now when Allistor looked at the kids he could see the similarities between them. Chelsea and Ethan indeed had the same hair color while Rhys had more blonder and reddish. Rhys and Chelsea in the other hand had the same bright blue eye color. Ethan had olive green eyes. And Thomas had been… He had had black hair and dull brown eyes. No resemblance with the three except similar lanky built with Ethan but that could change too during the time.

"Okay, shouldn't ye go to yer parents? Thay must be worried." Allistor asked them.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea." Rhys agreed silently. "Let's go guys."

"It was nice to meet you sir!" Chelsea waved to the Scott before hurrying away with her siblings.

"Heh, one messed up family. But I can't really complain, can I?" The nation chuckled. The Flying Mint Bunny appeared by him. "Hello, wee bugger. What has Artie done now? Blown up tha house?"

At least the Scott's own youngest brother wasn't stuck up like that Thomas had been. He was lucky in that way. Because two days after that the Londoner pushed Rhys down the stairs of Ethan's home.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, we had Scotland here! And he can see FMB too. I think that all the UK brothers can _see. _I hope I portrayed him right though since he isn't an official character.**

**And we have now Chelsea, another kid with national identity problem like I call it. Natasha is the other one. And her home situation is messed up like the UK brothers. But don't pity Thomas even though he is banded against like Iggy. Thomas is a git. Biggest git ever. Poor Rhys.**

**BTW I really hope I didn't insult anyone with these accents I tried to write. If I did, I'm sorry.**

**mham - Irish: mother**

**mam - Welsh: mother**

**tad - Welsh: father, Chelsea used it only because Rhys uses it to differentiate their fathers.**

**other words should be detected from the context.**

**BTW, please review or PM and tell me what you think. I'll really need it to keep this going while I'm getting buried under schoolbooks. Thank you, and see you again some day with Miya&Mari + Japan&Korea!**


	8. 2003, July, Miyako&Mariko

**A/N: I was dutiful and got and inspiration + I already had quite clear idea for this. So I wrote this up! You are welcome. But to be honest I have no idea about the continuation pace... Hmm...**

**Anyways now you shall meet Miyako and Mariko again. And Mariko is lost. I know I just used the 'looking for a sibling idea' in the previous chapter too but this one was in my mind before that one. About Mariko's "ane-chan"... she has simply watched too much tv, say I. Ane-san is used among some gangs/yakuza to refer an older/more experienced female member and means "sister". The masculine version of this word is "aniki" which is seen sometimes been used by to refer Japan. And the "-chan" suffix is just because Mariko is Mariko and I don't really think that she'd call her sister "-san".**

**But now to the chapter itself. :)**

* * *

"**Ane-chan"**

Okay, it was official now. Miyako hated department stores. Especially large ones. Especially when she had to babysit Mariko. AND especially now when she had managed to lose the girl. The eight-year-old Japanese girl sighed. Why her? What had she done to deserve this torture?

"Riko-chan! Mariko! Where are you?" The girl called into the masses of people. No answer. There was too much noise.

* * *

"Ane-chan! Ane-chan, where are you?" Mariko tried her best so she wouldn't cry. She was taught not to panic and she greatly admired her ane-chan Miyako who kept her emotions to herself. But now she was all alone somewhere she didn't know where and her ane-chan was nowhere to be seen.

"Ane-chaaaaan!" Mariko had only gone to watch the toys in the nearby stand while ane-chan had been buying ice cream for them. And the four-year-old might have wandered away when seen colorful balloons in distance. But she had gone back and ane-chan had disappeared!

The little girl sat on a chair of a little tea and coffee place. She sniffed a couple of times before wiping her nose to her shirtsleeve. The shirt was Miyako's old and had a bit too long sleeves but Mariko didn't care. When she wore it she felt really big and great. Just like her ane-chan was! But now the sleeves had unrolled from the folds they had been and Mariko couldn't roll them on her own.

"Da-ze! You belong to me now!" Someone lifted Mariko in the air suddenly. The girl squeaked in surprise and looked at the person holding her in the air. A young man with a funny curl that had a face in the middle. That was what Mariko noticed first. Then she noticed his long sleeves and bright smile.

"Do you feel better now?" The man asked. Mariko nodded. "Good, what was wrong earlier? Little girls like you shouldn't be alone like that and crying."

"I lost my ane-chan…" Mariko mumbled and the man lowered her so she was on the level of his chest.

"What is your name, kiddo?"

"Watanabe Mariko."

"Nice to meet you Mariko. I'm Im Yong Soo."

* * *

"Mariko! Mariko!" Miyako was breathing heavily. After shouting for a good ten minutes at least she was pretty much out of breath. She knew she was by now at the other end of the department store and even in a different floor but she couldn't be too sure how far Mariko had wandered off. Had the girl even noticed that she was lost? This was the first time Mariko had vanished out of sight like this so Miyako had no idea how the little girl would behave. The eight-year-old in the other had started panicking now. What would she tell her parents? What if something bad had happened to Mariko?

"Riko-chan! Where are you?!"

"Can I help you, ojou-san?" A hand was placed on Miyako's shoulder.

"Yips!" She almost jumped but managed to maintain her composure. She looked at the man talking to her. He had nice, brown eyes that were somewhat void of any emotion. Although now they were a tad empathetic. His hair was on a bowl-cut like style but it wasn't awful like Miyako had seen in some TV programmes.

"Are you alright?" The man asked her.

"I… I need to find my little sister. She is lost and I have no idea where she could be. She has never before been lost." Miyako babbled which was very uncharacteristic for her. Maybe it was the panic kicking in.

"I can help you. What's her name?"

"Mariko. I'm Watanabe Miyako."

"I'm Honda Kiku. I'm also looking for my… brother." The man let out a small smile. "We'll find them."

"Thank you." Miyako managed to smile back faintly.

* * *

Pairing Mariko Watanabe and the personification of South Korea on a search mission was probably the worst idea the fate could come up with. Neither of them could keep their attention on the matter at hand but at least they were staying together. Mariko was delighted how different the department store looked from Yong Soo's shoulders and Yong Soo enjoyed the girl's company while telling her about his country and how 'everything originated in Korea'.

"No, Hello Kitty is Japanese! I know it." Mariko argued back with a laugh. She liked this silly man.

"No, she is not. She is Korean. Otherwise China wouldn't try to copy it and call Shinatty." Yong Soo told her as they boarded on the escalator to downstairs.

* * *

Miyako sighed when she and Kiku walked from yet another dead end of stores. They had found neither of their lost siblings. And help would be very welcome. This was getting annoying. Not to mention how familiar the man seemed…

Kiku in the other hand was both frustrated and worried. Frustrated that Yong Soo had managed to get himself lost and worried for little Mariko. And there was something unnerving in the way Miyako watched him sometimes.

"Honda-san?"

"Yes, Watanabe-chan?"

"I… Nothing."

"What is it, Watanabe-chan? I can see this is bothering you." Kiku crouched down on her level.

"I just… It's silly really but…" The girl drifted off, glancing towards the escalators. "Riko-chan!"

Kiku turned to look where Miyako was looking. And there they were. Both of them. Mariko babbling happily on Yong Soo's shoulders while the Korean answered her.

"Yong Soo…"

"Your brother?"

"Yes. Apparently he found Mariko-chan first." The man took the girl's hand and they started weaving their way through the crowds towards the escalator.

* * *

"Ane-chan!" Mariko squealed when she spotted her sister in the crowd.

"And Aniki is there too." Yong Soo grinned. He hopped the last few steps down and to the other pair. "Annyeonghaseyo, Kiku! You found me."

"Konnichiwa, Yong Soo. It would've been easier if you hadn't gotten lost in the first place." The Japanese greeted the Korean stoically. Yong Soo just grinned and let Mariko on the ground. Miyako started immediately fuzzing around the younger girl.

"Don't you realize how worried I was? Something really bad could've happened to you… And what can I tell to okaa-san? She surely-."

"Don't tell her." Mariko interrupted. Miyako stared at her sister like she had grown another head.

"But…"

"She doesn't need to know since I was found. And I'm okay." The little girl waved her hands and her overlong sleeves flapped around. Miyako took a hold on her wrists and folded the sleeves neatly so Mariko was able to use her hands properly again.

"Will you two be alright on your own now?" Kiku asked the girls.

"Hai!" Mariko grinned as she was in process of unfolding her sleeves.

"Riko-chan! I just folded them." Miyako protested.

"I like them more like this." The girl informed the other and bounced to Yong Soo. "I had fun. Thank you!"

"You are welcome, Mariko." The Korean smiled.

"Well, thank you anyways, Honda-san." Miyako bowed a little before smiling up to the man who had been with her for the last part of the search.

"You are welcome Watanabe-chan." Kiku smiled back.

"Nee, nee, ane-chan! Could we visit Momo-chan? Please?" Mariko came seemingly out of nowhere and latched herself into her sister's arm. "She isn't too far, right?"

"No, she isn't… Maybe we could. Let's buy some flowers on the way, okay?"

"Hai!"

"Thank you once again." Miyako said one more time. This time to the both males before the girls disappeared into the crowd.

"Momo-chan?" Kiku questioned aloud.

"Mariko told me about her. She is her younger twin sister. Dead twin sister." Yong Soo said sadly. "The girl doesn't seem affected though. I think I would be. Although she seems to have a great family around her."

"…We are here too, Yong Soo. We all. Even if our terms hadn't been the best during the last two centuries." Kiku said quietly. "I'm sure you'll be united with your twin someday."

"Gamsahabnida…"

* * *

"Ane-san, I want to travel to Korea someday."

"Really? Why?"

"I want to see if it's really as great as Yong Soo said."

"I see. What else did he say?"

"He tried to tell me that Hello Kitty originated in Korea."

"Hmh… Everything originated in Korea, da-ze…"

"That's what he said."

"Really?"

"Hai!"

Miyako stared blankly ahead as she continued walking on with Mariko. The younger girl was completely oblivious of her sister's mental absence and just continued babbling on. Thoughts were racing in Miyako's mind. There was no way. Absolutely no way that they had actually met… They shouldn't even exist… But what if… But how… Had they actually met the personifications of Japan and South Korea?

* * *

**A/N: He hee... This is the year when Hetalia started as a webmanga. And Miyako had started to read it. I'm not sure when South Korea's character actually appeared for the first time but for the sake of the story I decided she'd know his most famous line.**

**Trans.**

**ojou-san = young miss (Japese)**

**Annyeonghaseyo = Hello (Korean)**

**Konnichiwa = Hello (Japanese)**

**okaa-san = mother (Japanese)**

**Gamsahabnida = Thank you (Korean)**

**x**

**Okay, now I'm off. See you again. And please review ;)**


	9. 2004, January, Natasha

**A/N: Hello, this is a bit shorter than the previous ones because this is only one brief encounter. The next one is longer I promise.**

* * *

**8. Three sunflowers in the snow**

Snow twirled all around the park as the people of Moscow trudged through it from work and school. There were stands where people could buy some hot chocolate or tea but very few people actually stopped in the snow to buy it. It was too cold in their opinion. The same opinion shared the personification of Russia, Ivan Braginski, who stood there in the middle of snowfall and just watched his people walk on and on to their destinations.

"Excuse me, mister, have you seen my mittens?" A small voice asked the tall nation. Ivan turned around. A child, age of six, was standing there. He was wearing a green hat, a light blue woolen scarf, a blue winter jacket and dark grey trousers with darker grey winter boots. And like the question initiated, he didn't have any sort of gloves or mittens.

"No, little boy, I don't think I have." The man smiled gently.

"I lost them! I just put them into my pockets while drinking hot chocolate but they fell!" The boy started panicking on the verge of tears. "Katerina and I split to look for them but now I can't find her either!"

"Do you want me to help to find your sister and your mittens?" Ivan asked the boy who nodded with a sniff. He seemed to have caught a cold some time ago.

"Da!"

"What's your name?" The nation asked when he took the boy's tiny hand into his large one.

"Nikolai Yanovich."

"Nice to meet you Nikolai. My name is Ivan Braginski."

* * *

They looked around the park, walking from one end to the other one in the case someone had taken the mittens and put them somewhere completely different spot than where they had fallen. Nikolai was about to lose his hope by when…

_Jingle, jingle, jingle…_

"Did you hear that?" The little boy asked, looking around them frantically but couldn't really see anything due the snowfall everywhere.

"Da. What is it?"

"Katerina. She has bells in her braids." And right on cue the jingling seemed to come closer and the pace between the jingles faster.

"Niko!" A girl's voice called. "I found your mittens!"

It was not one girl running to them but two.

"Katerina!" Nikolai let go of the nation's hand and ran to the first girl who indeed had bells tied on her long braids. She was wearing a pink coat with large buttons and a pink scarf the matched the boy's. She was holding a pair of light blue mittens which undoubtedly were Nikolai's.

"Let's out these on, your hands are freezing." Katerina told the boy.

"Nyet, you dummy. Don't you see they're soaked through? If anything they're making his fingers freeze off." The other girl, older of the two sighed. She kneeled by Nikolai an plucked off her own pale lilac mittens and put them on the boy's hands. She had deep violet jacket with fur trimming on the hem and cuffs of the sleeves and the same pale lilac colored scarf than her mittens but no hat. Instead she her silvery grey hair was pulled on a high ponytail and tied with a purple ribbon.

"Big sister, your school ended already?" Nikolai asked.

"Da, did you already drink the cocoa?"

"Da, that's when I lost my mittens." The eldest of the three nodded and got up, brushing her bluish violet skirt from snowflakes in the process.

"Sister… I can't wait for June." Katerina said suddenly. She was practically bouncing on her feet. The other girl looked at her and smiled faintly.

"What's so suddenly? It's just another month."

"But we are going aboard! To London!"

"Mum promised we could ride the London Eye and see the city on night from there." Nikolai piped up.

"You surely are excited." Ivan smiled to them. The trio looked up.

"Da, we've never before been aboard." Nikolai smiled.

"Niko, your scarf is slipping." The eldest child crouched again to fix it. "You'll catch a cold."

"Why aren't you excited sister?" Katerina frowned.

"I am. A bit. Anything to get out of here. But I'd rather go home."

"Why don't you go then?" The personification of Russia asked. He didn't like the sound of the part 'anything to get out here'. But maybe it was just the girl didn't like Moscow.

"Because our parents don't want to leave. They work here. And our friends are here." Katerina explained.

"Hmm… Yeah…" The other girl muttered.

"But we have a bit of home with us! Our granma made these scarves and mittens for us!" Nikolai added.

"We don't really see her anymore so we were really happy when we got these last Christmas."

"Katerina, Nikolai, that's enough!" The eldest snapped to the two. "We need to go now." She took their hands.

"I never caught your name, miss…?" Ivan let the question open for the girl to answer.

"Natasha Yanovich."

"Have a safe trip then."

"Thank you." Natasha nodded curtly and stiffly as if she didn't really want to be polite to him. She started leading her little siblings out of the park. Nikolai twisted around a bit and waved to the man.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Braginski!"

"See you later!" Katerina called too over her shoulder.

"See you, my little sunflowers."

* * *

**A/N: Alright, this was here. The next chapter is about Natasha too and it takes place about a month later. And Russia will be there too. And Natasha is impolite to Russia because she hates Russia as a country so her hatred is channelled towards the personification too. It's my headcanon that the personifications will appear as trustworthy people towards humans regardless their nationality except they themselves to something t shatter their trust or if the nation they represent are in a war with the country the human in question is from. Was that clearly explained? I hope so...**

**Well, I'm trying to finish the next one as soon as possible. Meanwhile please review!**


	10. 2004, February, Natasha

**A/N: Hey, this is the second part of 'Sunflowers'. Natasha still here and now you'll get some insight into her character. More nations in this one and hopefully none of them are out of character...**

* * *

**9. The Frozen Sunflower**

_Crash!_

The shards of glass which a moment ago had been a bottle of vodka slid on the floor. Another bottle4 flew to the same direction and crashed on the wall mere inches from Natasha's head. She didn't flinch, only blinked slowly and void of any emotion. It was like she wasn't even there. She had been like that since the funerals…

Her father was slouched over the kitchen table with a few bottles of various different liquors around him. Some were empty, some still full, some half-drowned and some broken regardless of the amount of alcohol they'd had inside them before breaking. It had been a month now. A month since Natasha's mother, Nikolai and Katerina had died in a car crash in the middle of a blizzard. Natasha had been at school then and her father at work. Nikolai had caught a cold. He had always had poor health. So their mother had taken him to see the doctor. Katerina was with them because she couldn't be left home.

"Why them…?" The drunkard man slurred. "Why not you? You just stand there, indifferent to everything. You don't even speak."

It was true. Ever since the death of three members of their family, Natasha had closed up and stopped speaking. At first she had merely switched into Belarusian but then the other kids at school had started bullying her worse than they already had because of her natural quietness. Even the teachers had tried to make her speak Russian so she had then completely stopped speaking. In her mind it was Russia's fault that she had lost about everyone she cared of. And since the funerals in Minsk, their previous home, her father had started drinking and mumbling incoherent and inane things. At first Natasha had ignored them but when he started saying that _she_ should've been in that car, it started slowly eating her away.

When the man had finally fallen asleep, Natasha walked quietly into the hall and slipped her black winter boots on. She glanced at her reflection on the full body mirror there. She was wearing a deep purple skirt and a matching blouse with a white collared shirt, the same ones than on the funerals. The girl looked then at the coat rack, considering whether or not to take her coat, it was February after all.

"Maybe I should. So no one will stop me…"

* * *

As soon as Natasha was out of the door, she set off running. Her feet thumped on the snowy ground heavily as she tried to get as far as possible from the house she had never called home. Her home was in Minsk, had always been and would always be.

It was nighttime and not many people were out despite the city being the capital of Russia. Natasha didn't stop though. She kept running until her vision was blurry and she was feeling dizzy. When was the last time she had eaten? Oh yeah, the lunch time at school. One sandwich. And that was nine hours ago.

The girl slipped and stumbled in exhaustion but didn't stop running. Eventually she was on a quieter area where the snowbanks were high and the streets were covered by them. She slowed down and looked up at the sky. She couldn't see the starts on the dark, velvety sky due the tears and sweat.

"Niko, Kat… JA chaču dadomu." She choked out before fainting on the nearest pile of snow.

"Sunflower?"

* * *

Natasha woke up slowly. She blinked a couple of times before realizing that she was lying on a soft, large bed in a dimly lit room. She didn't shot up to sit. That would've been stupid. Instead she took in the room around her.

It had light brown walls and darker brown, heavy velvet curtains in front of two tall windows on the wall on her left. Drapes made of similar fabric were also around the bed which was some sort of really old-fashioned four poster bed. On the bedside table on the left side of the bed was a glass of water and a lamp. The lamp was the only source of light in the room with its warm hue it spread around.

Natasha got up slowly, keeping the heavy and warm blanket up to her chin. She rubbed her eyes before slipping out of the bed and walking to the door of the room(opposite to the windows and almost in the corner). When she pressed her ear against the door, she could hear people talking there. In Russian. At least four different people.

Quietly, the girl opened the door a bit. There were four people indeed there. One was the man she had met with Nikolai and Katerina, Ivan Braginsky. Other three were noticeably shorter than him. Natasha didn't pay much attention on them though and retreated back into the room.

* * *

_Clack_

A silent sound from the lock made the Baltic Trio spin around and Russia lift his gaze from them. They didn't see anyone there though.

"Little sunflower must have woken up." The tall nation spoke and walked past the other three. He opened the door to find Natasha sitting on the bed, her knees against her chest while she hugged them tightly and her head resting a top of her arms. When she heard the door opening, she lifted her head up to glare the man. Russia merely smiled.

"We have been worried, sunflower. I found you passed out in the snow two days ago."

Natasha's eyes widened. Two days?

"One and half." The nation corrected. "It's midday now on Thursday."

Natasha nodded slowly before turning to look at the windows and resting her head on her knees again. The scowl was back on her face. She had failed. She was still alive. And still in this stupid country. Stupid Russia that was at fault of everything.

"We can talk later if you want, sunflower. You must be hungry, da? I'll send Toris to bring you some food."

No reply. Russia continued smiling despite that until he stepped outside the room. Then the smile slid away.

"Mr. Russia?" Lithuania asked shakily. "What is it?"

"Toris. Get some food for her. Eduard, find me everything you can about Natasha Yanovich. Raivis, do something."

"Yes" The trio squeaked and scurried away.

* * *

Ten minutes later the door opened again. Natasha hadn't moved an inch. Lithuania stepped into the room carrying a tray which he placed on the bedside table. Natasha looked up.

"I brought you some food."

A nod. Natasha shifted on the bed and reached for the spoon next to the plate of soup. Toris watched her for a short moment before walking around the bed and opening the curtains of the window closer to the bed. Bright light flooded into the room. Natasha stopped in midway of eating(the plate was half empty already) and turned around. Her eyes widened in wonder at the brightness outside and in no time she had leapt over the bed and hurried to the window. The girl pressed her palms against the cold glass. There was piles and piles of pure white snow, bright wintry sky and dark yet snow covered forest surrounding the premises of the house. Natasha couldn't help but stare at it all. It had been such a long time for her since she had seen something without the greyness of Moscow.

"You like snow then?" Toris asked. Natasha's head snapped up. She stayed silent and nodded then slowly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The Lithuanian continued, looking out of the window.

A nod again.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

A head shake.

"But you can talk… right?"

A nod.

"I must be annoying you with my questions." Toris chuckled joylessly. Natasha regarded him for a moment before shrugging. The man wasn't Russian so he was okay, even though he was speaking Russian to her. The girl turned around and leaned against the window. She felt like saying something and opened her mouth to do so but decided otherwise then. No, she wouldn't speak _that_ language. But she wouldn't speak her language either. She was constantly bullied for speaking differently and surrounded by people trying to coerce her to speak _that_ language.

Natasha climbed back on the bed and resumed eating. Toris watched her in silence, waiting for her to finish.

* * *

"Eduard, have you found anything?" Ivan appeared to the door way of the Estonian's room. The IT whiz jumped a bit but turned to face the large nation.

"Yes, I have but may I ask why you are so interested in her?"

"She has a Russian nationality but, unlike her siblings, she doesn't feel Russian. I can't recognize her an my citizen."

"Oh…" Estonia opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "Well, I found her alright…"

"And?"

"Her mother and siblings died a month ago…"

"Little Nikolai and Katerina?"

"Yes, according to the records is was a mere accident though."

"And Natasha?" Russia inquired.

"Psychiatrist she was forced to go is saying she stopped talking after the funerals. Before that she had been saying that her siblings were going home which is weird because their family wasn't religious at all." Eduard frowned while Ivan remembered what the children had told him earlier.

"_But I'd rather go home." Natasha said._

"_Why don't you go then?" Russia asked. He didn't like the sound of the part 'anything to get out here'. But maybe it was just the girl didn't like Moscow._

"_Because our parents don't want to leave. They work here. And our friends are here." Katerina explained._

"_Hmm… Yeah…" The other girl muttered._

"…Where are they buried?"

"It doesn't say… No, wait. They were taken to Minsk."

"Minsk?"

"Yes…"

"Could it be then… that she is Belarusian?"

* * *

Natasha had gone back to sleep. She had been offered a chance to go around the house but the girl had promptly refused to leave the room. She had only used the toilet across the hall once but otherwise had holed herself up in the room and was shooting proverbial daggers at anyone who tried to get her out of there. Latvia had fled the room after that and Estonia was also avoiding the room as much as he could. Lithuania seemed to be the only one she allowed to stay there for extended amounts of time but she didn't talk to him at all either.

* * *

A week later Toris was again with Natasha. The girl ate quietly her breakfast while Toris told her about the things going on in the house.

"Mr. Braginski's sisters are coming today for a visit. Their names are Nataliya and Yekaterina." Natasha looked up. "What is it?" Toris asked.

"Nataliya… Yekaterina… Natasha… Katerina…" She said quietly.

"Oh, that's right. A bit like you and your sister then. I can't really say about personalities though…" Lithuania trailed off. He had to admit there was something in Natasha that resembled Belarus but not that much. The girl herself in the other hand stayed quiet.

"Do you have other siblings too?"

"Nikolai."

"You don't talk much, do you?"

A glare.

"The day you woke up, Mr. Braginski asked Eduard to look up on you. I'm sorry for your loss."

"They are home now."

"Where is that home then?" Toris questioned, relieved that he had managed to make her talk a bit.

No answer.

"Is the problem that I'm speaking Russian to you?"

A nod.

"And you are not Russian."

Another nod.

"Belarusian?"

A third nod. "And proud about it. I hate Russia. I hate being here. I hate how this country is taking everything from me. So I'm not letting it to take my national identity too." Natasha said in Belarusian. Toris blinked in surprise before nodding and giving her a grim smile.

"Sometimes I think so too." He answered in the same language, making Natasha smile at him.

* * *

Natasha washed up and slid into her own clothes Toris had washed for her. For the last couple of days she had worn Raivis's clothes so it was nice to get into her own ones for a change.

"You ready?" The Lithuanian asked when she stepped out of the bathroom. The girl merely nodded.

"Silent treatment again?"

A nod.

"Okay, let's go then." Toris held out a hand which the girl took.

* * *

"Big brother, marry me. We can become one for eternity." Belarus clung on Russia's arm. The large nation was shivering horribly and trying to look anywhere but her. Ukraine was standing nearby in the sidelines, unsure what to do, while Estonia and Latvia stood as close to the door as possible.

"Nataliya, would you let go of my arm please?" Ivan said after a few awkward moments when he had miraculously managed to gather up some courage. "And not to talk about this matter today. We have a guest, a human quest."

"A human? Why Vanya?" Ukraine asked. It was rare for Russia to invite houseguests(other than his sisters) especially humans.

"I couldn't let her die." Was the simple reply.

"'Her'? A girl? What do you want with her then? If you think you can-." Belarus began but Russia cut her off, holding up his hand to silence her.

"It's nothing like that Nataliya, I can assure you. Little sunflower is only eleven years old now."

"Fine." The youngest of the three huffed.

"Where is she now?" Ukraine decided to ask before any sort of spat could begin between her younger siblings. It had never really happened before but there was a first time for everything.

"With Lithuania. she had refused to let anyone else close to her. She even refuses to speak." Russia smiled a bit sadly.

"Mr. Braginski?" Lithuania knocked on the door frame.

"Ah, Toris. Come in. Is…?" The question remained hanging in the air when the Lithuanian stepped into the room, Natasha behind him. The girl was gripping the nation's shirt like her life depended on it.

"She is a bit shy at the moment." Toris smiled uncertainly.

"It's alright." Ukrained smiled and leaned a bit tot eh side to get a better glimpse on the girl. Something other than just her violet skirt. "Hey there. My name is Yekaterina but you can call me Katyusha."

The girl just buried her face on the back of Toris's shirt and tightened her grip. The Lithuanian glanced at the Kievan Rus family briefly before trying to pry Natasha's hands off his shirt.

"Nia._(No.)_" The girl squeaked, hands shaking. She was downright scared.

"It's alright, you can let go." Lithuania murmured.

"Nia, JA nie chaču._(No, I don't want to.)_" Natasha whispered so only Toris heard her. She was shaking her head so hard that her grip loosened a bit and the Baltic nation managed to get her hands off and to grip his own.

"Just let go of him already, girl." Belarus snapped. Natasha froze. Carefully, very carefully, she peeked behind Toris's back at the three nations before hiding again.

"Eduard, Raivis, Don't you have any duties to attend? Toris will join you shortly." Russia smiled at the two other Baltics who almost saluted before hurrying away.

"Big brother, what's the deal with this girl anyways?" Belarus huffed. "Why it's so important for us to meet her?"

"Well, isn't it simply impolite not to meet my houseguest? Besides I thought she would do with some female company after staying here for a week."

"Vanya, you sound like you kidnapped her." Ukraine muttered.

"No, she ran away. I think. I only took her here so she wouldn't freeze to death. Apparently she didn't really appreciate that though…"

"And why's that?" Belarus crossed her arms over her chest. Russia glanced at the pair by the door. Lithuania was crouched in front of Natasha who had also crouched down as an attempt to hide while keeping a death grip on the Baltic's hands. The brunette nation was talking to her quietly but she just shook her head.

"I have a guess…" Russia said slowly. "But why don't you tell me that?"

"What?"

"Look at her."

And Belarus did. Now when she could see the girl's face, she could recognize her as one of her own. She could see Natasha's struggles in the new country: how she was mocked, how she had no friends except her siblings. How she heard about the deaths of her siblings and her mother and how her father turned into a drunkard. How she cried constantly that she wanted to go home while the rest of the time she wore an emotionless mask. How she taught herself over the years to hate everything in Russia. And how she ran away in the hopes of dying an being reunited with Nikolai and Katerina.

"She… wanted to die." The young woman whispered. At the same time Natasha's startled and panicked cry pierced the silence in the room. Toris had managed to slip out of the girl's grasp by distracting her with a photo he had rescued from her skirt pocket when her clothes had gone to the wash. And now the Baltic nation had slipped out of the room, closing the door behind.

"Nia! Nia pakinuć mianie ŭ spakoi!_(No! __Don't leave me alone!)_" The girl dashed to the door but it wouldn't open, locking her into the room with three strangers. The photo lay abandoned on the floor where she had dropped it. A photo of her and her sibling.

Belarus walked to the eleven-year-old who was at the verge of tears while on her knees by the closed door. While coming closer the nation could hear the girl begging the Lithuanian to come back with a quiet voice. She could hear glimpses from other sentences too, like "they're too similar", "don't leave me alone", "I'm scared" and the most common one: "I want to go home". The nation of Belarus sat behind Natasha and placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl flinched at the touch and tried to get away until she happened to look at the woman directly in the eyes. She froze, once again, before tears welled up into her sapphire eyes.

"It's alright." Belarus whispered. "I understand."

And that was all Natasha needed. She hadn't cried properly since the death of her siblings. Actually she had never cried because she had tried to stay strong for the sake of them. Yes, she had, when she had been alone, cried how she wanted to go home but she had never had anyone to comfort her nor had she ever properly mourned the loss of her siblings. So that gentle push was all she had needed to hear for a long time and now she was quite literally crying her eyes out against her homecountry. And no one was to judge her. Not Russia who had saved her life, nor Ukraine whi picked the photo on the floor and wiped some stray tears away from her cheeks. Not even Belarus who some other circumstances would've killed anyone who had as deep hatred against Russia as Natasha had. But this girl was an exception. Her feelings were entirely justified. Belarus could feel her pain as tears slid down her own cheeks too.

* * *

Eventually Natasha fell asleep out of exhaustion on Belarus's lap.

"Do you think her father is worried about her?" The woman asked quietly as she petted the girl's hair.

"I doubt it but it's possible." Russia answered with an equally quiet voice.

"Poor girl, having gone through so much." Ukraine whispered, before walking to Belarus and Natasha and placing the photo on the girl's skirt pocket.

"What are we doing with her now?" Belarus looked up. "She… Natasha can't go on like this. Not without Nikolai and Katerina." For once the female nation wasn't her creepy self but still slightly tear-eyed.

"She needs to go home, Nataliya. Not to Minsk but the place her father waits for her. And it's up to her will she remember being here at all and whether this is a dream for her or not." Russia said gently. "But if it helps you at all… we can make her father stop drinking and notice her and her good sides. That's how much power we have as nations over this situation."

"Very well…" Belarus looked at the girl and hugged her tightly.

* * *

Natasha opened her eyes tiredly. She was in her room, lying on her bed. How nice… Wait!

She blinked several times and shot up. She was indeed in her own room, in her every day clothes and daylight was pouring into the room through the window opposite her bed. She looked around. Yes, this was her room alright, it was day time, and her digital alarm clock told it was Saturday… Natasha frowned at the clock. It had been Tuesday night when she had ran away, Thursday midday when she had woken up, and Friday on the next week when she had met Mr. Braginski's sisters. And now was the next day from that. But what was she doing home then? Or rather had that all been just a dream? If so, how long had she been asleep? And _what_ were those noises from kitchen?

Carefully Natasha got out of her bed and stepped into the hallway. Her father was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

"Good morning, Natasha!" He greeted the girl. "It's good to see you awake and on your feet." The man walked to her and placed a hand on her forehead. "Good, the fever seems to be gone now."

"Fever?" Natasha asked before she could stop herself. Maybe because her father was speaking Belarusian to her after all those years living. The man didn't even smell like alcohol and there were no bottles in the house. He was clean and tidy, almost like going to work at any moment but in casual clothes.

"Yes, the police found you from the snow. Why did you run away like that? I was worried to death for you. Just the thought of losing you like Niko and Kat…" The man turned away a bit as his voice broke. He scooped the girl into a tight hug. "Thank god you survived with only a fever."

Natasha wrapped her arms around her father and squeezed him a bit. She was confused. She could remember being in that large house where people were friendly to her. She remembered how she was left behind once again and how she cried. But no matter how hard Natasha tried, she couldn't bring herself to remember whether it all had been a dream or not. Nevertheless she smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Right, I hope you liked this one. As you can see the countries messed up a bit with her father's memories too. But it was only for Natasha's sake.**

**BTW as you might have noticed, I don't name the parents of these kids. It's just too hard to keep track on the names. Merely the amount of OCs I have is a lot... And the parents are not in that big of a role. Just on the background.**

**But for now, until next time! Please review by the way. It would really help me to know were the nations in character and what is your opinion on the OCs. And also I'd like to know if Natasha is in your opinion like 2P of Belarus. I mean... she doesn't like Russia and gets along with Lithuania but still scares Latvia. ;)**


	11. 2006, May, Andrius&Mikayla

**A/N: It has been forever hasn't it? The school is still killing me as you know and I also had an writers block this time... But now we shall meet Mikayla, Andrius and Marcus. Andri is my baby. :)**

* * *

**10. A day in a park**

"Mi-Mikayla! Be careful! You might fall!"

"Ha, I won't fall. I'm too good to do that."

"How did you even get there?"

"I climbed of course."

"Right…"A thirteen-year-old boy ran a hand through his brown hair which barely touched his shoulders. Then he looked back up to the midst of branches where his blonde ten-year-old cousin Mikayla was sitting.

"Andriii… Come up here." Mikayla tried to coax the boy to join her.

"I…" The boy, Andrius, hesitated. He really wanted to. It seemed fun and naturally it would be interesting to see the park from a whole new angle. But then there was the fact that…

"Big brother!" A little boy collided against the teen's back. Andrius sighed. Not a moment of peace.

"Hello Marcus." He greeted the kid without turning to look at him. The kid had brown hair like his brother but it was lighter and curly.

"Big brother play with me." Marcus demanded while clinging onto Andrius's arm.

"No. I need to make sure that Mikayla won't fall." Andrius replied, still not taking his eyes off the girl up in the tree. Marcus looked up there too and glared the grinning girl. He didn't like much Mikayla. She was always taking Andrius away from him whenever she visited them. To be honest Marcus would've been more than happy if the girl fell from the tree but then they would have to leave the park.

"Come down Mikayla." The little boy whined and tried puppy eyes on the girl who was only two years older than him.

"No. It's a great view from here. Andrius, join me, please." Mikayla begged, her light blue eyes twinkling in excitement.

"I'm rather here… So I can keep an eye on both of you." Andrius told them. "Marcus, go play with your friends. They must be missing you already."

"…Okay." Marcus reluctantly let go of his brother's arm and headed slowly towards the giant sandbox further away where some boys of his age were. The kid didn't really like them. He'd rather be with his big brother but their parents would be worried otherwise. And Andrius sometimes hung out with his own friends. Marcus hated everyone who kept big brother away from him. Well, maybe hate was too strong word for it but still!

* * *

Andrius followed his little brother going back to his friends before sighing again. This was one of those days when Marcus was being extremely clingy. It was bad enough on normal days when he was all sweet and smile and wouldn't leave Andrius alone for a second from the moment the older boy stepped in from the front door. And then there were days when he would glare everyone who tried to take Andrius's attention from him. The boy could only hope that something wouldn't go horribly wrong with his little brother and he wouldn't end up hurting someone.

"Hey, Andri, you coming?" Mikayla asked.

"Nah… What do you think Marcus will do if he won't spot me anymore?"

"Goes home? I mean. He should already know well enough how to share. You're not _his_ property or anything. Yeah, you're brothers but he won't give you a moment of peace." The two cousins didn't know that their conversation was being overheard by four passers-by. Four nations to be exact. The Baltics and Poland who like from a mutual agreement decided to sit on a bench near the tree.

"Yeah…"

"Just come on. I'm leaving tomorrow I have every right to have you today." Mikayla descended on a lower branch and extended her hand downwards for Andrius. The boy smiled and took it, swinging himself so he could get a hold on another branch. In no time he was up and sitting steadily on the branch next to Mikayla's.

"Do you think it's okay to climb on these trees?" Andrius asked.

"Oh, c'mon! You ask it now? Of course it is! What is the point in planting perfect climbing trees like this if you are not allowed to climb on them?" The girl laughed.

"Right…" Cue an eye roll. "But we still need to be careful. I'm the one who gets the blame if something happens to you or Marcus because I'm the eldest one of us."

"Yeah, yeah… Let's climb higher. You've seen nothing yet and higher up no one will see us." Mikayla stood up on her branch and started climbing up, towards the top of the tree which was about six meters from the ground. After a second of hesitating Andrius followed her.

"You know, I'm not going to let you push me around. I'm doing this only because I don't want to be with Marcus all the time…" He told the blonde.

"Whatever you say Andri. I know you secretly are thrilled about this all. I just persuade you to follow your own mind rather than yield on the kid's will."

"…"

"Come, look." Mikayla was now in the height of five meters and pointed out of the foliage. Andrius sat on a branch a bit lower than hers and looked there. His breath hitched in his throat. The view from up there was magnificent! All the rooftops of the Vilnius old town lit by the sun that was beginning to set. All those colors and interesting architecture. And the other parks that could be seen far away. Andrius couldn't get enough of it. He loved it all. A bright smile lit up the boy's features as he admired everything he saw. Seeing in it from this perspective was just something unbelievable and beautiful.

"Aš myliu šį miestą._(I love this city.)_" Was all he was capable of saying at the moment. Mikayla grinned at him.

"See, I told you you'd like it." She told him a bit cheekily and glanced down at the park. "Oh, look. Your mother just arrived. She's talking to the kid."

Andrius glanced there too and indeed his mousy-haired mother was discussing with his brother who had inherited the hair-color. "Yeah…"

The woman looked up at the tree they were sitting in but didn't seem to notice them and left the park then.

"She really trusts you, huh?" Mikayla half-asked, half-stated.

"Yeah. Gives me responsibilities while Marcus is being spoiled by her and father." Andrius shrugged and looked at the rooftops again.

"Well, I'm going down. These branches are a bit uncomfortable." Mikayla started descending when Andrius's mother had left the park.

* * *

From the bench near the tree one of the nations got on his feet and walked closer to the tree. The four of them had listened to the conversations between the cousins but none of them more intently than him, the oldest of Baltics. The other two had fallen into a casual conversation and the fourth member of their little group had started to paint his nails with pink nail varnish(very manly).

"Liet?" Poland looked up from his little 'mission' to focus on his best friend who had stood up now.

"Yes, Feliks?" Lithuania looked over his shoulder at the blonde.

"Like, what is it?"

"I… I don't know." Something just told him he should stand up. Just like something had told him to stop to listen to the conversation between Andrius and Mikayla Laukaitis.

"_Mikayla, be careful."_

"_I am."_ There was a sound of a faint crack that startled the girl and then a sound of shoe slipping. _"Yiiiiks!"_

"_Mikayla!"_

The ten-year-old girl fell right on Toris arms. Lithuania could only stare at her in astonishment when she recovered from the fall. The girl looked up at him, opened her mouth only to close it again. There was slight rustling from the foliage and Andrius appeared on the lower branches. Mikayla looked up at the boy as if to say something but then the nation placed her on the ground.

"Are you alright?" Toris asked worriedly.

"Yeah…" Mikayla said shakily. Andrius hung from the lowest branch for a second before dropping on the ground.

"Mikayla…" He walked to the girl and placed his hand on her shoulder. It met something wet. Andrius removed his hand and looked at it. It was blooded up but he couldn't see where the blood had come from. Although Mikayla was wearing a dark red turtleneck shirt that she had gotten as a present two days ago. Normally she wouldn't wear anything that would be too close to her neck. She said it felt like choking.

Andrius sprang into action. As soon as he spotted a tear in the collar of Mikayla's shirt he realized what had happened. A stub of a branch must have scratched her badly enough to make it bleed and most likely to leave a scar too. Mikayla herself was in a shock and just staring at the man in front of her. The man stared back, seemingly confused about what was up with her. The three others with him came to them quickly but didn't say anything.

"Mikayla… Don't move. Not even your head, okay?" Andrius said quietly and reached to pull the collar down. There was the bleeding scratch about two inches long.

"A-Andri?" Mikayla asked with a faint voice.

"Yeah?" The boy answered absent-mindedly while inspecting the wound.

"That man looks just like you."

Andrius looked up at the man who had saved his cousin. He most certainly bore some resemblance to the boy himself. Hair was about the same color and length and the eyes were forest green. There was something also in his facial features that were a bit like Andrius. Maybe the boy would look a bit like him when he grew up.

"I can see that." The teen unwound a light blue scarf around his waist: they had been playing pirates earlier that day, and wrapped it around Mikayla's neck. "Now put pressure on it, okay?" He took Mikayla's hand and pressed it against the wound. "You are going to be just fine."

"What's wrong?" One of the men, one with glasses, asked. He had somewhat funny accent.

"Hematophobia." Andrius replied quietly and led Mikayla to sit on the bench the four nations had sat on previously. He was about to sit next to her when a blur of curly hair latched himself on his arm.

"Big brother, what happened? Are you alright?" Marcus asked worriedly and gazed up at Andrius.

"I'm fine. Mikayla got hurt though."

"Oh." The worry was gone immediately. The boy turned to look at the nations near them. "Who are those? Why that man looks like you, big brother?"

"I don't know and it doesn't matter. He saved Mikayla though. Go get mum now, okay? Mikayla needs help."

"But I don't want to leave you big brother…" Marcus whined.

"Marcus I promise I'll play with you tomorrow but Mikayla is much more important that some stupid game." Andrius's voice gained volume as he spoke yet he didn't progress to shouting. The smaller of the two stared at him for a moment before shooting a hateful glare on Mikayla and sprinting off. Andrius sighed and sat next to his cousin who was staring the ground and pressing the scarf against her neck. Toris sat on the other side of the girl and sent a glance to the other three that signaled that they should go. And they left, no questions asked. The two brunettes looked down and the blonde girl.

"Hey, Mikayla… Would you like to tell me what you are going to do when you grow up?" Toris asked gently. He figured that it was best to keep the girl talking and focused on something else than the wound on her neck.

"I'd like to travel. All around Europe or even the world. I want to join a circus and preform on a big stage." Mikayla smiled.

"I bet you are going to be great. You have already now a lot of confidence and talent." Andrius smiled when his mother came running to the park, a first aid kit in her hands. The boy noted that Marcus wasn't with her.

"Where's Marcus?"

"At his room." The woman answered and put the kit on the bench. Toris had gotten on his feet to make space.

"Kid is most likely sulking." Mikayla chuckled but winced then.

"Don't talk. Andrius, take the scarf away I need to see the wound."

Expertly and quickly the mousy-haired woman bandaged the wound and thanked Toris for looking after the children(and naturally for saving Mikayla, too). Mikayla also thanked the nation before being dragged out of the park to rest. Andrius watched him for a moment too and merely nodded then. For some reason he felt he didn't need to say anything else. Lithuania watched after them a faint smile on his face before walking away.

* * *

The next day Andrius watched from the window of his room how a grey car drove away, Mikayla and her parents inside it. The girl had asked to keep the scarf the boy had used to prevent her bleeding to death. Of course that was exaggeration but anyways Andrius had let her keep it. After it had been washed. Before walking out of the door Mikayla had wrapped it around her neck again to hide the bandages and hugged Andrius tightly. She had promised to never take it away.

"Big brother." Marcus appeared behind the young teen. Thankfully they weren't sharing a room.

"Yeah?" Andrius didn't remove his gaze from the courtyard which was empty now. He pondered what Mikayla's home looked like back in Utena. He had never visited it…

"You promised to play with me."

"That I did."

"Are you coming?"

"Soon." He just wanted to stay like this for a little longer. And remember the rooftops he had seen.

* * *

**A/N: By the way, Utena is a real city in Lithuania. I saw it on a map.**


	12. 2006, September, Francois&Alonso

**A/N: Okay, here is the next one. This is quite short and a bit different but I wanted and needed to get this out of the way. And sorry for the short author notes on the previous chapter. I was in a hurry. By the way in this one Francois's name is written 'incorrectly' because my Word doesn't have that special C... And I didn't have internet at the moment to use... Adn I don't have either those special question and exclamation marks for the Spanish I wrote here. But nevertheless enjoy!**

* * *

**11. Hola! Bonjour! Como estas? Ca va?**

Who had the brilliant idea of getting pen pals? From aboard, Spain? That was insane! We weren't kids anymore!

That was the main idea of the thoughts going on in the heads of class 8-D. Of course there was some students too who were excited about the idea, like Francois Dubois, but not that many. The fourteen-year-old blonde was looking out of the window, daydreaming and smirking to himself. If he was lucky he could get a pretty girl to chat with. Or a cute boy. Either was fine, not that he had told anyone about it. He ran a hand through his wavy blonde locks that reached his chin as his emerald green eyes casted one last glance on the school yard before focusing on the teacher who was instructing them. The main idea with the pen pal project was to hone their skill with some other language. In their case it was Spanish since that was the language their class studied. Class C had German and B Italian. Class A specialized in finer aspects of English language and was really small because everyone studied at least little English and wanted to learn some other language too. And then there was another smaller class, F, which was for Portuguese if Francois remembered correctly.

But back to the present. Each of them were to get a name and photo and basic information of a student they were to write then. All the information was what the student in question had given themselves. So it might be false too. When they'd gotten the information, they were to write a letter to introduce themselves, in Spanish, they teacher would read them through("that's violating privacy and letter secret!" someone interrupted and the whole class laughed) and then they'd be sent as a packet together to the sister school in Spain that was the other end of this project. The project would go on the whole school year and the letters would affect their Spanish grade. And naturally the letters from Spain would be in French and affect the grade the students there got from French.

Francois was excited about all this but when he heard the 'rules' his enthusiasm was knocked down a beg or two. Teacher reading the letters?! That's horrible! It was like teachers eavesdropping to the conversations he had with his friends when they went behind a corner for a quick smoke.

"Here you are, Francois. You get Alonso Verdacia." The teacher gave him an envelope with the name written a top of it. Francois sighed. Of course the hag would make sure that boys would get boys and the girls would get girls. Paranoid bitch… He eyed the envelope warily. It was just a regular white envelope. How boring, Francois thought until he turned it around. The back of the envelope was drawn full of tiny stick characters in fancy positions. It was a bit familiar.

"That's the Dancing men." A girl next to Francois told him. She was the bookworm of the class with her other bookworm-y friends sitting around her.

"Quoi_(How so/Excuse me)_?"

"A Sherlock Holmes story. Dancing men. It's quite good." The girl continued. Francois couldn't recall her name no matter how much he tried.

"Really? You like British literature then?" He leaned his cheek against his fist and flashed a smile to her. She smiled back, expression not changing.

"I like all kind of literature." She replied. "Do you want me to translate that for you? I remember the code by heart now."

"Bien sur_(Sure)_." Francois gave the envelope to her and she began working. In a minute she was ready.

"Here."

"Merci. What's your name by the way?"

"Mylene."

"Nice to get to know you Mylene." The boy took the envelope back and looked at the translation.

_Let's take all the fun out of this. Teachers are such pricks, don't you think?_

The blond smiled. Yes, he'd definitely take all the fun he could get. And without teachers noticing…

He opened the envelope and looked through the information he got. Alonso was his age, played football and the guitar, lived in Barcelona. What he could read between the sentences was that he was quite mischievous by nature, maybe even devious when he felt like it. He also had an older brother Miguel who was leaving to Italy for better work in a year. In the photo was a tanned boy grinning widely to the camera in a tee. He had messy chocolate brown locks which were quite unevenly cut. Some of them had even escaped the low ponytail he had. His brown eyes were also twinkling. He was quite cute in Francois opinion but not his type. Not that he was even sure what was his type.

Nevertheless Francois took a pen and started to write a reply. Later he would tell about this all to his cousin Michel in Quebec…

_Hola, Alonso! Como estas?..._

* * *

Alonso smiled widely as he read the letter he had gotten from Francois. It was almost Christmas now and they wrote each other every week. They had exchanged addresses to escape the teachers' radar and started writing more freely. That concerned their topics and the language they wrote. Along the time there started to be more slips in their letters and eventually a whole new language was formed between them, a mixture of French and Spanish. But only between them. They trusted each other and talked about everything they had in mind. Francois had even been the first person to know that Alonso was watching more boys in _that way_ than girls. And he gave the Spaniard his full support and warning to be careful. Not many people were as accepting. And Alonso had been the one to comfort Francois when he heard that the French's best friend, the girl who had translated the Dancing men, Mylene, had been bullied and as a result made a suicide. It had been heart-shattering. Without her they probably wouldn't have come this close. And it was almost impossible to believe that it had been only a couple of months that they'd known.

But it didn't matter. They had each other now.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, this was supershort actually! I didn't even notice... Anyways I want to point out now that Alonso and Francois have no romantical interest on each other and won't have. And Michel means my OC Michael[Maikhl] Willows but because he is Quebecian(?) and Francois is French, he is sometimes called Michel [Mikel] which is the French version of the name. Just like Matthew and Mathieu. :) About all my other OCs will call him with his given name though. Jacques and Elsa are probably the only exceptions...**

**The next chapter is longer if I remember correctly... But it will have BTT! And Akseli will finally make his debut! Update on Monday. See ya then ;)**


	13. 2007, October, Elsa&Akseli

**A/N: Okay, here starts one of my favourite chapters this far. We've got Elsa and Akseli(and mention of the Cantorini twins) and then we also have BTT(France, Spain and Prussia)! And they are not portrayed as perverts for once! I worked really hard with this one and I hope you'll like this. :)**

* * *

**12. Underwater**

Sun was shining high and bright in Salou, Spain. It was about midday and a lot of shops and restaurants were closed for siesta. Locals were about nowhere seen. Some were out and enjoying the sun though. Who knew when the temperature would drop to the horrible plus five degrees of Celsius! It was already October after all.

But most of all there were tourists there. Escaped the dreary weathers of their homecountries to the warmth of Spain. So were Elsa and Akseli Ahola there too. Enjoying their time on a holiday. It was nice to get out of the dark and wet Finland for a moment and charge batteries before starting to wait for the white and cold winter. They weren't the only ones from their school to escape the rainy month. Their good friends and Akseli's classmates, half-Italian twins Luciano and Felicia Cantorini had gone to Firenze to visit the family of their father's.

But back to Ahola's. The kids had left their family's hotel room(apartementos actually) to go to the beach nearby while their parents were having siesta. Elsa giggled at the thought. When in Rome, do what the Romans do. But since she and Akseli were full of energy and had no intention of napping, they had bugged the adults until they had given in and allowed the two go to the beach. Of course there was some restrictions like "no more than an hour", "stay between the flags", no going into the water if the flag is red" and of course the classic: "stay together and don't go with strangers".

"C'mon Akseli, we're going to miss the best waves!" Elsa took the hand of her ten-year-old little brother and pulled him along to the water as soon as they had gotten rid of the clothes over their swinsuits.

"Yeah, I'm coming but shouldn't you tie your hair first?" The boy offered two hairbands to his twelve-year-old sister who accepted them half-grumpily before smiling.

"Fine, but only because you're so cute!" Elsa hugged the boy tightly.

"Gah, get off!" Akseli shouted. Hey, it was a universal law that boys didn't like getting hugged by girls. Especially by their sisters, especially at a certain age and especially on public.

"Killjoy…" The girl muttered and tied her sandy-blond hair on two low ponytails by the two elastic fabric loops. "But let's go now. There's only a yellow flag up so we'll be fine."

If only…

* * *

Akseli couldn't breathe. Water was surging into his lungs and he hadn't had a chance to hold his breath. It all had happened so fast. one moment he was hand to hand with Elsa, laughing at the big waves, and the next his hand had slipped and his feet were swept by the returning currents. And he had sunk underwater, the currents dragging him further and deeper. The boy had his eyes shut. He had never been able to keep his eyes open underwater. And if he were, his vision would be blackening by now. Because he was running out of oxygen…

"A-Akseli!" Elsa looked at her hand which was wet due the saltwater and slippery because of the sunscreen they had put on their arms and backs before coming to the beach. And because of that their hands had slipped. Elsa had turned away for a second and turned back when she hadn't felt her brother's hand anymore in hers. Akseli had been gone. And no one else had noticed it. No one lese saw a boy disappear underwater. A bulb of panic rose from the girl's stomach to her throat and choked her.

"Akseliih!"

* * *

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo noticed two things while swimming. He had come to the beach in Salou with his best friends Gilbert Bieldschmidt and Francis Bonnefoy and fooled around with them a while before going to swim and cool down. But now he noticed those two things. One was a blonde girl – a tourist – looking around in panic before hurrying back to the dry land and continuing look around. The other literally bumped into him. Hit him in the legs to he almost lost his balance. He look down(thank god the water was almost crystal clear!) and a boy lying there, unconscious and not breathing. Swept by currents and the only thing keeping him from being washed out to the sea was Antonio's legs.

The nation acted quickly. Because the water reached his chest, he had to dive to get the boy. And he did, just barely in time before the boy was too far to reach. But Antonio got a hold on the boy's wrist and pulled him to the surface. To his horror the boy didn't start coughing and spitting the water out and rasping for air.

"I just hope I'm not too late." Was the only thought the personification of Spain had when he hurried towards the shore, the boy on his arms.

* * *

"Toni! Yo! What's up?" Gilbert greeted his friend from the shadow of a large parasol. Gilbird chirped too and landed in the hair of the albino. Francis was lying on a towel nearby too and bathing in sun while flirting with a couple of girls. The Prussian was grinning until he saw the unmovable form of the boy in Spaniard's arms.

"He isn't breathing." Antonia gasped. The run from the now to shallow waters to his friends hadn't been easy.

"Put him on the ground. Was he underwater?"

"Yes, it just happened."

Gilbert's mood had changed drastically and the casual grin was replaced with a serious expression. Francis sat up too and shooed the girls away. Antonio laid the boy in the shadow of the parasol on Gilbert's towel as the albino moved away and jumped into action, checking for any life signs. He found a pulse and started CPR.

It took a good few minutes before the boy jerked and started coughing. Gilbert helped him on his side so he could spit the water out of his systems.

"Hey, easy, easy… You're fine." The albino rubbed the boy's back while muttering soothingly in German. Thankfully they had gathered very few spectators which Antonio and Francis kept in a good distance and sent away eventually.

The boy looked up at the Prussia and was about to say something when another coughing fit hit him. After it was over he promptly passed out.

* * *

Elsa watched the crowds on the beach. Could she ask help? She didn't trust her language skills enough to do so… And she wasn't as brave and open as she used to be… But Akseli…

Suddenly her attention was caught. People swarmed by a colorful parasol but were sent away. Soon all spectators were gone and doing whatever they hadn't been doing prior that. Only three guys remained there and by them on the ground was...

"Akseli!" Elsa didn't believe she had ever run that fast in her life. She stopped only when she stumbled and the blond guy caught her around her midriff, preventing her falling flat on her face.

"You okay, mademoiselle?" He asked in English. He had a funny accent, French maybe.

"Yes, is Akseli alright? He's my brother." The girl looked anxiously at her brother's still form on the black and white towel.

"Si, he was awake a moment ago." The man who looked like one of the locals reassured her.

"Luojan kiitos…_(Thank god…)_" Elsa let a sigh of relief. "I… I almost thought he had… I don't know what I would've done then… I was so worried…" The tears she had refused to spill earlier came back now and the young teen was crying. It started as sobs but turned into a waterfall.

* * *

The BTT stayed silent while the sandy haired girl cried. Gilbert was sitting by the boy, Akseli as he was identified now, and making sure he kept breathing. Francis guided the girl to sit down on one of the towels and kept comforting her silently. Antonio looked around for a moment before asking the girl where her and her brother's belongings were. It was a bright blue bag with golden yellow starfish.

* * *

After five minutes Elsa's crying had ceased into hiccups and she was furiously wiping her tears away and muttering about how embarrassing the situation was.

"It's alright, frau. Even zough crying is so unawesome sometimes, I've done it too. Und I vould do it again is it vere mein brüder in danger." Gilbert declared.

"Or Lovi. I don't know what to do if something were to happen to him." Antonio added.

"Y-Yes, but crying in front to strangers…" The girl muttered to the towel she had wrapped around her shoulders.

"Well, let's not be strangers then. I'm Francis and these two are Gilbert and Antonio."

"I'm Elsa though on the Internet I'm called Eliza. Some foreigners are weird…"

"On the Internet?" Antonio questioned.

"I keep a video blog, a vlog. Started during last summer to improve my English. I just talk about random things. Of course not revealing any personal information."

"You like blogging zen?" Gilbert asked.

"The…" Elsa paused a moment to look for the right word. "…reception had been mainly positive. And I like the idea of talking my thoughts out."

* * *

The four of them talked for a while, each taking turns on telling about themselves. Antonio told about his tomato fields and an Italian boy he raised up, Francis told about his farming business while brushing Elsa's hair and tying it on a French braid. And Gilbert told how he lived in his brother's basement and occasionally helped him in his work. What work, he didn't elaborate. Elsa in the other hand told about her hobbies: playing the piano, drawing and being a scout.

"How old are you, chica?" Antonio asked suddenly.

"Twelve. Akseli is ten."

"Where are your parents then?" Francis frowned.

"At the hotel having a siesta. I bugged them enough to let us come here on our own…" Elsa trailed off to look at Akseli. She frowned. "Ylös, unikeko._(Up, sleepyhead.)_" She poked the boy on the side. He yelped and opened his eyes.

"Ei hauskaa, Elsa._(Not funny, Elsa)_" Akseli glared and sat up slowly. Gilbert helped him.

"Sinä se teeskentelit nukkuvaa._(You were the one the fake sleep)_"

"Pyh._(Tsk.)_"

"Pyh itsellesi._(Tsk yourself.)_"

"Dummkopf._(Stupid/Idiot.)_"

"Don't go all German on me." Elsa flipped the boy a top of his head. "Axis."

"Don't… call me that." Akseli said with a bit of difficulty. Well, he had studied English only a bit over a year.

"Why not? In a way that's your name."

"Was?_(What?)_" Came the question in German.

"Periaatteessa se on sun nimi." Elsa repeated her previous statement in Finnish. With a sigh.

"Vat are you talking about?" Gilbert asked.

"Akseli's nickname I gave him. In Finnish the word 'akseli' can be both a name for a boy but also a regular word. And if that word is translated in English it'd be 'axis'. Like…" She paused to think a good example.

"Axis Powers, oui?" Francis guessed, a smirk aimed at Gilbert who glared back.

"Hmm? Axis Powers?"

"The other alliance in the World War Two." Antonio clarified.

"Ah, Akselivallat! Yes, just like that." Elsa's face brightened in realization.

"Very funny, Elsa." Akseli grumbled, holding his head.

"No need to be so grumpy. Or is Luciano rubbing on you?"

"Kopfschmerzen…"

"Eh?"

"He has a headache." Gilbert translated.

"And he couldn't say it in Finnish…" The girl muttered. "We should probably get back to the hotel so Akseli can rest properly." She shook the towel off her shoulders and pulled t-shirt, which she had fished from the bag, on.

"We'll walk you there." Antonio offered immediately.

"Gracias." Elsa smiled to the Spaniard while handing Akseli his shirt. Antonio laughed merrily.

* * *

The group of five walked along the corridor of a hotel. Akseli was taking support from Gilbert because he was still feeling dizzy. Francis had offered to carry Elsa's bag and Antonio was trailing behind, chattering to a phone. All their of stuff was put on the back of their car.

"Here it is." Elsa knocked on one of those identical doors of the hotel rooms. After a couple of seconds the door opened and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes opened it.

"Ah, Elsa, tulitte jo takaisin…_(Oh, Elsa, you already came back…)_" The woman began but noticed the three men then with her children. Before she could question it though, Elsa had launched into explaining the situation in quick Finnish. When the explanation was out, the woman enveloped the girl in a hug and held out a hand for Akseli too. The boy took it and together he and Elsa were almost squeezed to death.

"Thank you very much. I don't know what I would've done if something had happened to either of them." The mother of the two thanked the trio once her children were ushered inside.

"De nada._(It's nothing.)_ It's great to see them alright." Antonio smiled.

"Oui." Francis agreed while Gilbert nodded. They all were giving their best impression to the woman. They could sense she was suspicious about them which was only natural in any situation.

"Äiti, sä voit kyllä luottaa heihin._(Mum, you do can trust them.)_" Elsa had appeared to the doorway. She had been in the bathroom changing her clothers and washing the salt water and sand off her skin. (Her hair hand been wet in the begin with so she still had the French braid.) "Akseli on pesulla nyt._(Akseli is washing now.)_"

"Selvä sitten. Minä menen etsimään teille jotain pientä syötävää._(Alright then. __I'll go to look for something for you to eat.)_" The woman left the four of them standing there a tad awkwardly.

"We'll be going now too then." Francis smiled.

"Ja, I'm hungry…" Gilbert grumbled, holding his stomach. Elsa giggled.

"Starving more like but alright, off you go then. Take care of yourselves and thank you once more."

"Au revoir!"

"Auf Wierdersehen!"

"Adiós!"

* * *

**A/N: Alright, what did you think of this? I'm quite happy with this one. Only thing is that I probably should've included Gilbird a bit more but oh well...**

**Please review! I really appreciate it!**

**The next chapter is what happened with Akseli when the BTT had left. Curious? Just wait. ;) ****A tip: it's another 'ghost' but not a historical person.**


	14. 2007, October, Akseli

**A/N: This is the last chapter I wrote in a spur of inspiration last week. Now I'm going on a hiatus due my matriculation examinations(really big tests here in Finland by the end of high school). They are in March but I need to start preparing for them now already. If I have a chance I might write some more but it's unlikely that I'll get anything finished.**

**After this chapter, please don't kill me if you don't like the turn of events. But do tell me what do you think. I'd be really happy about it and it would give me power to read for my exams.**

**But now to the chapter itself, I have rambled enough!**

* * *

**13. My ****ghost****, my ****shadow**

Akseli dried his hair on the fluffy towel of the hotel and dressed into a blue t-shirt and grey shorts. Every movement he made caused him to wince in pain. Not only he had a headache but also his chest was sore from the CPR he had received not even and hour ago. He could only hope that none of his ribs were broken. His mother had said that they'd go to see a doctor as soon as they got home.

The boy was halfway to the door of the bathroom when he happened to glance in the mirror. To Akseli's horror, he couldn't see his reflection there. His assumed spot was completely empty. But the reflection itself wasn't. There was a boy there, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and observing him disinterestedly via the mirror. Their eyes were glued together.

Slowly Akseli turned to look at the bathtub behind him but there was no one. He even walked to the tub and checked inside it too before looking back. The boy was still sitting there, smiling faintly, like it was a foreign expression on his face, but Akseli himself was still missing.

"Kuka…_(Who…)_" Akseli began slowly, not quite comprehending the situation.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch._(Speak German.)_" The other boy told him with a calm, quiet but firm voice. Even though Akseli had studied German only one autumn, he could understand the other perfectly. With slow measured steps they both approached the mirror from their sides of the room.

"W-Wer sind Sie?_(W-Who are you?)_" Akseli managed to ask quite quietly. He didn't want his family coming bursting through the door.

"I'm what's left of the Holy Roman Empire. The non-corporeal part." The strange boy answered in German. Now when they were face to face, Akseli could see they were very similar. Almost identical. Except that the other's boy's eyes were deeper and darker blue than Akseli's who had the same greyish blue eye color than Elsa. And the other boy's hair was a bit longer. Then there were his clothes. He had a black coat to his hips with a leather belt and dark breeches tucked into boots. Around his neck he had some sort of a scarf or tie, white it was anyways. He had also a black hat with gold trimming but wasn't wearing it at the moment.

"How are you… Why are you here?" Akseli asked. For some reason his usually a bit awkward German came fluently now.

"I've been here with you all the time, just not awake." The other boy shrugged.

"All the time… But that doesn't explain why now."

"You almost died, I've almost died. Thus the connection between us two opened and I woke up."

"Who are you?"

"Just a ghost."

"And I'm supposed to believe that? How can I be sure that this isn't just some twisted dream or that I'm hallusinating."

"I can't prove that… You just have to believe it because I won't or even can't leave you alone." The boy looked to the side. Akseli frowned.

"…What are you?" He finally asked.

"I'm the personification of Holy Roman Empire. I'm the lost memories of Germany. And I'm you, Akseli Ahola." By the last declaration Holy Rome turned back to look at Akseli, his blue eye boring into the boy's.

"Me?" Akseli squeaked. "How so?"

"We are the same more or less. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to see me and I wouldn't even be with you."

"When you say personification…"

"I represent the people of mine, staying alive as long as my country does."

"But you died. You said it yourself. And I've never even heard of you."

"Yes, my empire is no more but the lands and the descendants of my people still exist. They are what Germany is now. My physical body grew up to be him but my memories came to you two centuries later."

"So you're telling me… that you are a nation?" Akseli confirmed. His headache was gone now but his head was still spinning a bit as he tried to understand all the information he got. "That countries all over the world are represented by… people like you?"

"Yes. We don't die, we age only if our nation grows stronger." Holy Rome nodded.

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes. Tonight. I'm going to show you my memories that you have." The stranger smiled in a bit sinister way and disappeared from the mirror, leaving Akseli staring his own half-frightened reflection.

* * *

That night Akseli slept deeply but restlessly. The ghost indeed showed him those memories. Actually he showed everything. All those centuries. All the battles he participated in. The times he spent at Austria's house. His brother Teutonic Knights who later became Prussia. A jumble of emotions was thrown at the boy. And finally the battle in the Thirty Years War where France killed the younger nation before Prussia could reach him. The spirit clung on other people of his and followed them until the year 1806 when the sixth of August the last emperor of Holy Roman Empire abdicated thus ending the nation for good. And after that was only darkness.

* * *

Akseli shot up on his bed. The hotel room was dark and the only sounds there where the air conditioning, Elsa sleeping soundly in the nearby bed and their father's snoring in the other part of the apartementos. It took a while for the boy to calm down and when he did, he headed to the bathroom to wash his face from the cold sweat that lingered on his forehead.

Tha boy looked up to the mirror and wasn't surprised at all to see Holy Rome leaning against the wall on the other side.

"You believe me now?" The ex-nation asked.

"Y-Yes… I just… It's still hard to understand." Akseli looked down at his hand. On his palms he had small crescent shaped marks from his nails. He had even drawn blood.

"We have time."

"And I have no other choices."

"I don't have either."

"Who are you?"

"You can call me… Heinrich. I fits doesn't it? Akseli _Henri_ Ahola, born August 6th 1998?"

Akseli didn't answer. He kept staring at his bloodied hands. He could almost imagine himself holding a sword in them. And for some reason he knew this wouldn't be the last time he saw those marks.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, here this was. I really hope you liked it. Now I'm off to the fields of hard studying.(As if...)**

**Please be gentle with Akseli, this won't be easy for him. Not at all. First he drowned and then finds out that a dead empire lives inside his head. By the way I drew a picture what HRE should be like. He has an appearance of a ten-year-old boy now not the five-seven what he is in the series.**

**Something like this: tsukiko75014. /art/ APH-HRE-again-399381691**

**Just take the spaces away.**

**The next chapter - when I'm to write it - will be the next part of 'Halves' i.e. it will feature Chelsea and her brothers again! This time with England.**


	15. 2007, October, Chelsea&Michael

**A/N: Alright, this chapter took me several days due stuff going on. We shall meet our dysfunctioning British Isles half-siblings. And Michael is thrown into the mix too. This time England is witnessing everything but I haven't put his thoughts into this. You can think yourselves what is going on in his head.'**

**This chapter wasn't as good as I thought it would be but I hope you like it. I just want this out of my hands so I can start writing about Felicia and Luciano.**

**In this one Chelsea is 11, Michael 13, Rhys 15, Thomas 16 and Ethan 18. About.**

* * *

**14. I'm an Irish dammit!**

"I hate this!" Rang in the Hyde Park. A scoff followed that and a silence. The personification of England(although he usually represented the entiraty of the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland), Arthur Kirkland, looked up from his book, Macbeth, to see a group of five people walking to his direction. The people in that little group were all young – Was anyone of them even over twenty? – and he couldn't really identify any of them, expect a young man with glasses and black hair. He seemed to be the one who had scoffed earlier.

"I'm serious! If you can behave, you can sod off! No one is forcing you to stay. You just hang around to annoy all of us!" The voice continued. It belonged to the only girl of the group who had… quite interesting hair. Silvery white with bright orange and green stripes.

"I am with you because I need to make sure you won't cause havoc here. This _is_ my hometown after all." The bespectacled boy sniffed.

"Yeah, and I'm surprised tha' the population is still 'ere." The tallest one of them mumbled in Scottish accent. He walked to the nearby bench(which happened to be opposite England) and sat down.

"No one asked your opinion, Ethan!" The Londoner shouted, face red despite his attempts to stay calm and dignified. And naturally failing miserably in that.

"I gave it anyways, you dimwit." Ethan glared, lighting a smoke he had dug out his pockets.

"Ethan, does your father know that you smoke?" A third boy asked, sitting next to him.

"Nay. Don't worry about it, Rhys."

"By the way, did you know that dimwit can be shortened to form twit?" Rhys grinned.

"No, it can't!" Thomas argued.

"Yes, it can." The girl nodded.

"Actually, it can. I heard about it some time ago." Ethan mused.

"Okay, you disgrace of British Isles, sod off." The girl told the boy who seemed to be getting on everyone's nerves. She emphasized her words by making a shooing motion with her hand.

"You are not a person to boss me around, Chelsea." The boy scoffed. "Why don't you and your boyfriend go and mingle somewhere less public? No one wants you Yankees around."

This seemed to anger both the silvery haired girl and the remaining boy with her.

"I'm Irish, dammit!" Chelsea screamed, ready launch at the older boy and would've done it if the other boy hadn't restrained her despite his own angry expression.

"For your information neither of us was born in the States and simply living in New York doesn't make us Americans. And I hope you won't make that mistake again. Tu me comprendre?_(Do you understand me?)_" He told calmly, his soft, short and wavy golden locks obscuring his icy glare he gave to the Londoner.

"Oh, great, a French. Even worse."

"Shut it Thomas." Ethan sighed but made no move to stop either of them.

"I'm French Canadian. And the name is Michael Willows." The blonde boy stated, letting go of Chelsea who had calmed down enough not to strangle Thomas immediately.

"And who cares?"

"A lot of people actually. They don't want to make the same mistake than Lelouch Bourget. I think they still have him at a mental ward. He is death scared of everything that's smaller than a palm and moves." The Canadian gave a cheery and creepy smile to the boy.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"No, but take it into consideration."

"Fine, it's not like I want to spend time with any you. Especially you, you spawn of a whore!" Thomas spat at Chelsea. This time even Michael didn't try to stop the girl.

"That's it!" And Thomas was on the muddy ground, Chelsea kneeing him and clutching the front of the boy's dress shirt.

"You made three mistakes in that sentence." The girl growled, leaning closer to Thomas's face, The young man was shivering underneath her, downright scared.

"One, you insulted me. Two, you insulted my Mam who just happens to be also your mother. And Three, you singled me out. We work as a group which you don't belong despite the fact we see only once a year. So no one will help you. Not Ethan, not Rhys. Especially not Michael whom this doesn't concern and who you insulted earlier. So be prepared you bastard." A fist swung back to hit the boy square in the face. Then Chelsea swung it back again to hit him in the stomach. Thomas bucked and let out a cry. On the third hit, the girl was stopped though. She looked up to see Michael holding her wrist.

"Let it be, Chels. He is such a big wimp so that is already enough." He said calmly and helped the girl up. "Besides you probably don't want to beat him to a hospital condition like that one guy on July 4th."

"He deserved it though, trying to paint a startstruck stripy handkerchief on my face." The girl grumbled as she glared. "And _he_ deserves it too."

"I'd run now, Thomas." Rhys smiled, glancing at the grey October sky. "Because it'll rain soon."

Ethan had gotten on his feet and was offering a hand to the boy on the ground. Thomas looked at him but swatted the hand away and scrambled on his feet, running away then.

"An' I was just tryin' to be nice." The Scott muttered before grinning.

"Since when he appreciated any nice gestures you gave him?" Rhys sighed. "But it must hurt, being beaten up by his younger half-sister." The Welsh boy smirked at Chelsea who plopped on the bench next to him.

"I don't consider him my brother. Especially not after today." She stated.

"None of us have." Ethan sighed as he sat on the other side of the girl and patted then the place on his right to indicate Michael to join them.

"…Is it really shortened like that? Dimwit to twit, I mean." Michael asked as he sat down.

"Nay, we were just messin' up with the brat." Ethan chuckled. "Say, ya n'ver explained why yer 'ere."

"Ah! Um… Well… I wasn't meant to come. Ms. Sanders had bought three tickets and her current… male friend was meant to come with her and Chelsea but he got held up because of his work. So they asked if I wanted to come."

"How did you and Chelsea meet then? You said you were French Canadian. What were you doing in NYC?" Rhys joined into the questioning circle.

"I'm living with my aunt from my father's side. My grandmother's house is under renovation at the moment so we moved there."

"Ye live with yer granny?"

"Yes, I never got to know my parents. They just disappeared. I've always been with my grandmother. Of course I have a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins but I know next to nothing about my parents."

"Say… who was this Lelouch Bourget you mentioned?" Chelsea asked suddenly.

"No one. I made it up. I'm not very violent but I'm really good at making threats."

"Peaceful Canadians." Ethan chuckled, tossing his cigarette forward. It landed on a puddle and fizzled and died out.

"Hey, I'm not a stereotypical Canadian. For example I hate maple syrup. I hate sweet things in general. Pancakes are fine but I don't up any sugary things a top of them." Michael protested.

"From one thing to other… Chelsea, did you really beat up a kid on July 4th?" Rhys fixed a stern look on the youngest of them.

"Uhh… Maybe…"

"She did, I witnessed it." Michael confirmed with a grin.

"It's not my fault they try to forcefeed me that overly cheery independence and freedom crap. I'm not a Yankee and I never will so why should I scream and shout and celebrate that day. Besides that brat tried to pain my face with red and blue! It goes horribly with my hair!" The last sentences were delivered with a comical air and they all laughed.

"You impossible, Chelsy." Rhys chortled.

"I know and I'm proud about it."

"Hey, anyone hungry?" Ethan asked suddenly. "We could go a crab some fish'n'chips. My treat."

"What you? A Scotsman treating us?" Chelsea laughed when the oldest one of them got up.

"What did we say about stereotypes?" Michael sighed.

"Stereotypes are fun!" The girl grinned.

"But do not define every single person." Rhys reminded them, getting up too. The other two followed the Welsh boy and they started to head towards the entrance of the park, chatting cheerily. Ethan and Rhys walked a step behind, the elder smoking his second cigarette and the younger whistling a children's song. England had no problems in recognizing the tune as he turned back to his book, a small smile on his face.

"_London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my Fair Lady…"_

* * *

**A/N: I hope no one got offended because of this chapter. A bit America bashing and stereotype-crushing. And starstruck stripy handkerchef. Chelsea really knows her ways with words. But she can't beat Luciano who we'll meet in the next chapter. When it comes.**

**Please review or the Flying Mint Bunny will show you that he is not just a cute innocent bunny but a devil in disguise. And I like reviews. :)**


	16. 2008, ?, Miguel

**A/N: Okay, let me present you Miguel! Alonso's big brother who left to Italy to work. Remember? Al mentioned him in his letters to Francois. He actually isn't as important as the 'youngsters' who from this AtW group but he is important to the next chapter. So I decided to tell how he met Romano! Ups, was that a spoiler? Nevermind.**

* * *

**15. Worst idea ever**

Miguel rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten into this mess. Nor did he know would he ever get out of it ever. He hadn't seen his family for years. Actually not since moving to Italy. And now… He had gotten mixed up with mafia in Naples and naturally had no way out.

"Sen-… Signor? Is there anything you need me to do?" Miguel asked his boss, the leader of a mafia famiglia the Spaniard was working for now. He had never learnt the man's name but did know that he didn't like any other languages than Italian. Thus Miguel had to be careful not to slip into Spanish accidentally. He had heard what had happened to the previous guy who had done that. A shudder ran along Miguel's spine. He really didn't want it happen to him too.

"Oh, nothing at the moment." The boss waved his hand dismissively. "Why don't you go and ask someone else if they have some tasks for you, Verdacia."

"Okay, signor…"

"And make sure that no one will disturb me. I have a meeting soon."

"With whom, signor? I-In the case someone asks." Miguel added hastily, terrified that he'd stepped out of line with his question.

"Vargas is coming for his visit. He comes every second month, don't you remember."

"Uh, no, signor. I haven't been here long enough."

"Ah, I see." The boss smiled mockingly at Miguel and waved him to go. The young man was silently fuming. Just because he hadn't been around more than one and half month didn't mean others should treat him like a kid. Yes, he didn't have much experience and he was very low ranking member but… What was he talking about? Never mind. Miguel left the study and headed downstairs where the rest of those who were in the house (manor) would probably be.

* * *

"Where's boss?" One of the thugs asked when Miguel got to the kitchen.

"In his study." The Spaniard answered. He didn't really enjoy talking to the other members of the house.

"Does he need anything?"

"Not at the moment."

"Alright, I need you to go and tell him-." And there the bossing came again. Miguel interrupted him though.

"No."

"What?!" Oh, he was angry now.

"Boss said he mustn't be disturbed. He's having a meeting soon."

"With Vargas, huh?"

"T-That's what he said." Miguel stammered under the thug's angry glare.

"You better be right. If you lie you'll find your teeth in your throat soon enough."

"Y-Yes, I know. I'm not lying."

The doorbell rang. Some other member of the famiglia went to open it. A short conversation was heard. Miguel wouldn't be surprised if that hitman who opened the door wouldn't be downright licking the guest's shoes while bowing to him. At least that's what his tidal wave of polite words and buttering up suggested. The guest in the other hand seemed to be annoyed by all this and answered angrily yet politely and seemed to get rid of the hitman soon enough. The guest walked past the kitchen entrance to the staircase and Miguel could get a good glimpse on him. The man was quite young actually. He had dark brown hair with a strange curl poking out of his fedora hat and seemed to have green eyes too, Alonso couldn't be too sure though. He had tanned complexion just like majority of South Europeans. The man was dressed in a dark suit and had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"Looks like you were right then, Verdacia." The thug muttered, obviously displeased about that fact.

"Yes… Say, who exactly this Vargas is?"

"Oh you haven't heard then?"

Miguel shook his head.

"Sit down."

The Spaniard obeyed.

"Lovino Vargas is probably the most influential man in this half of country. No one really knows for sure because he reveals very little about himself. Anyways he acts as a sort of a mediator between famiglias and makes checkups in every single one of them every second month. I haven't never met him properly but they say one must not mess up with him… for reasons unknown."

"O-Okay…" Miguel had a bit hard time to wrap his head around this… enigma called Lovino Vargas. The man had looked barely over twenty but if even this thug and that hitman respected him that much… Just how much influence Vargas had?

"Don't worry, kid. You probably will never meet him face to face. After all you have just arrived without any ways to get up in ranks."

"Who said I wanted to climb ranks…" Miguel muttered as he got up to make something little for himself to eat.

"Well, have fun, kid. Clean the library for example." The thug chuckled and left the kitchen. Miguel scowled at his back. When translated to its actual meaning, that sentence would be something like: "Go and clean the biggest room of this house that collect the most dust and no one uses. And no arguments, newbie!"

* * *

A glass of orange juice and a slice of yesterday's pizza later Miguel found himself at the library. He actually liked the place. He loved reading although nothing could beat a good game of football (soccer to you Americans). There were historical books, books of arts, philosophy and regular novels too. Everything was in Italian though. It was the rule of the house. Thankfully Miguel was fluent on that language so he could entertain himself time to time. But now when he stepped into the room with completely different intention, he could only sigh. Why him?

Miguel dusted the books (all hundreds of shelf meters of them) quickly with a feather duster before taking a wet rag and wiping the narrow edges of the shelves in front of the books that were visible. All this time he was muttering more or less angrily in Spanish.

"I never thought, I'd hear an angry Spaniard." A slightly amused voice stated from the direction of the door. Miguel froze. He could not place the voice. Granted, he had definitely not met every single member of the famiglia but… So he turned around slowly.

"You're Spanish, aren't you?" Lovino Vargas asked whilst leaning against the door frame, giving Miguel a scrutinizing look. He had somewhat smug expression on his face despite the frown he also had. Miguel turned his back to the (supposedly) younger man and walked to the next shelf.

"So what if I am?" He asked calmly.

"Nothing. Just surprised. I know a Spaniard. He is always so oblivious and smiling it annoys me to no end."

"Well, I don't know what is your view of the world but people of one country are not copies of each other." Miguel gritted his teeth, just barely containing his anger. He heard Vargas scoff behind him and muttering something about knowing it better than anyone else. Miguel ignored it though and a silence fell into the room.

"How long have you worked here? I haven't seen you before." And soft sound, like someone had sat down on one of the soft and comfy (and dusty) armchairs.

"In this famiglia? Six weeks, give or take." Miguel shrugged, keeping his eyes on the books. "In Italy? About one and half years."

"That long?" The Italian's voice indicated that he was greatly intrigued by now.

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"A bit of this and that. Got a good job six months ago in a family restaurant and everything was fine and well until the owner said he had to kick some people out. He was really 'nice' though… helped everyone to get a new place through his contacts. And I… I ended up here the second I signed the contract." The Spaniard's grip on one of the shelves was quite tight by now and his shoulders were shaking in anger.

"Did you even read it?"

"Of course I did!" Miguel snapped, spinning around in process. "And it sounded good. Reasonable pay, good recommendations, it was fine. I even read the small print. But then. My signature was there and the paper snatched away from me. People leering at me in glee. Of course they were because they had managed to trap me into this deal with no way out. I haven't been in contact with anyone outside this house since then."

"Who would you contact then if you had a chance?" Vargas's face didn't betray any emotions.

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe my family back in Barcelona?" Miguel mused sarcastically before turning his back again to the Italian. "Please leave."

"Write up."

"What?" Miguel turned slightly to look over his shoulder.

"Write a letter to your family, I can give it to a friend of mine who will take it to the right destination."

"Why should I trust you? You work with these guys here." The rag gestured the half-closed door.

"I can't get you out of here but I can help you with that. Take it or leave it." The Italian stated coldly and got on his feet. Miguel said nothing as the man left the room.

* * *

Miguel did write the letter. It was mostly addressed to his brother Alonso but also had a few words to the boys' parents. In the letter Miguel apologized not contacting them before, saying he had a bit troubles finding work (a lie) but reassuring them that it was fine now. He was making a bit money (illegally mostly) and had a place to stay (he wasn't allowed to leave the place though). He couldn't tell when he could write next, maybe in two months (if Vargas agreed to deliver his letters). When he was done he took it to carry the letter around, after all he couldn't know when he would meet Vargas next.

It was about a week after that. Miguel was in a nearby park, having gotten a special permission to leave the house 'just for fun'. He had his football with him and he was making different trick with it. Bouncing it on his knees, balancing it above his head, etc. It had been quite a long time since he had done it all last but he still had the skills in his fingers – or feet. Back home he had even taught Alonso all those tricks.

"I wonder how good he is now."

"Who?" A voice that had become quite familiar to Alonso asked behind him. The Spaniard almost dropped the ball he was bouncing around caught it then with his feet. He huffed but once again didn't bother looking over his shoulder.

"My little brother. I taught him football tricks." Alonso replied. "I wrote the letter by the way."

"Can I have it then?" Vargas walked around him and extended his hand. Alonso resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bounced the football swiftly up, catching it with his left hand while the right one took the letter from the back pocket of his jeans.

"Here. It better reach him, Vargas."

"It will…" The Italian took the letter and walked out of the park. "I also have a little brother to worry about." He added. It was a tidbit of information that about no one else among the mafia famiglias knew. Alonso watched the man's back for a moment before continuing the tricks with the football. He could feel that the two of them had a strange connection now. Not exactly friends but not mere acquaintances either. There was some sort of mutual respect and understanding… probably.

"No entiendo este mundo…"

* * *

**A/N: I hope Romano wasn't out of character... But I thought he'd be at least civil while dealing with the matters concerning tha mafia... And Miguel... well, he is a bit like one of the Baltics under Russia's rule. Maybe a bit like Estonia in that matter... Or not. I dunno.**

**They'll have a curious relationship. They might sass each other while being civil and act like they don't get along after all but they have trust on each other and understanding on eiach other's situations. Or something like that.**

**No entiendo este mundo. = I don't understand this world.**

**Next time you'll get Cantorini twins finally. I'll cut it in two parts probably though. I'm not sure yet.**


	17. 2009, July, Felicia&Luciano

**A/N: Yush, this one took a bit of my time. I had it planned out in advance though so it took less time that it could have. This chapter is actually the very first one of these series that I planned. Then was Natasha's story and then the rest.**

**People in this one speak Italian all the time but I couldn't resist putting some actual Italian words in the middle. Sorry. The translations to those and some other languages that appear are on the bottom.**

**I should probably put some warning to this chapter... Contains abuse, blood, a bit death... I warned.**

* * *

**16. Month of fear**

_It was the 17__th__ June and the opening of a new family restaurant in Milan. Mario Cantorini and his Finnish wife Alina had planned it for a long time already and now their dream came true. Close family friends were invited and some local joined too to the celebrations. There were so much people that the twins, eleven-year-old Felicia and Luciano sneaked outside. It was hot day and even hotter inside. So what did the two decide to do? Play tag of course. Both of them were exceptionally fast runners after all._

_Felicia ran in circles on the yard in front of the restaurant while Luciano chased her. The boy made sudden change of direction then, almost reaching his younger sister. But before he could touch her and they'd change the roles, someone grabbed his arm by the wrist and twisted it behind his back._

"_Wha-. Idiota! What are you doing?!" The boy cursed as he was being held by a thug in black. He would have continued if Felicia's scream hadn't cut his train of thought off. She was being held by another man and was kicking and screaming._

"_Luci! Luciiiih! Aiuto! Aiuto! Aiutaemi!"_

_Cue a string of curses and threats to let go of the girl. Luciano started struggling but it was for vain. Both the twins were just too weak and small to give any real opposition to the thugs. So they were dragged into a van where they were knocked out with chloroform and bound by ropes._

_And that was almost month ago._

* * *

"Don't you dare to touch mi sorella!" Luciano yelled, struggling against the rope that bound his to the pipes behind his back. A grown man with a smell of cigarettes all over him sneered down at the boy before picking Felicia up. She was unconscious or sleeping, Luciano couldn't tell, and her hands were also tied up but unlike her brother's, her hands were bound in front of her.

"Shut up you brat!" The man kicked Luciano in the ribs. The boy let out a yelp of pain and doubled over as much as his bind allowed him. His sister woke up by the shout.

"Luci?" She asked wearily, rubbing her eyes with her bound hands. Then she noticed that she wasn't on the floor anymore but held around her waist like a sack of potatoes. She looked up. "L-Let me go…" She stuttered to the man.

"No, ragazza, you have your duties to attend." The man smiled a sickly sweet smile that Luciano really wanted to punch out of his face. "If you don't… You and you cara fratello won't get any food today."

"J-Just don't hurt Luci…" The girl whimpered, her eyes flickering to the hunched form of her elder brother. The boy was gritting his teeth and keeping his head bowed so Felicia wouldn't see his tears.

"Feli, I'm fine." He managed to say. "Just… don't worry about me. These guys won't hurt you for some reason…"

The man in the room had apparently grown impatient during the twins' exchange and headed to the door of the room. He opened the door and set Felicia on her feet where another man led her away. Luciano watched the door closing, his green eyes filled with worry towards his younger sister. The cigarette smelling man turned around then, a menacing smile on his face.

"We might not hurt your sister but who knows what might happen if the money doesn't come in time. I'm sure we'll find some _other uses_ for her then." Luciano's eyes widened a fraction as he realized what the man was talking about.

"No! Don't you dare! You bastard! Don't do that to her! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" The boy threw himself forward, attempting to get free from the ropes and jump on the man's throat.

"Shut up!" He got punched in the face. "You ungrateful brat. Don't you see this is better for you and your famiglia? Isn't it just better that your padre pays his debt?"

* * *

Felicia looked at the ceiling. She could hear Luciano's shouts and yells from the second floor and flinched every time. She was clutching the hem of her apron that covered her tattered green dress. She hadn't been given anything new to wear since the kidnapping a month ago. Sometime she got to wash her dress and Luciano's shirt by hand but not often. She was a kidnapped and forced to clean up mess that the mafia members made to feed herself and her brother.

With a sigh the girl took a mop and started to clean the kitchen floor under the watchful eye of one of the mafia. The man was younger than the others and named Miguel. He was the only one that didn't scare Felicia and probably the only one who didn't want to beat Luciano to death. The girl had also learnt that Miguel didn't particularly like working for the famiglia but didn't have any choice of the matter.

* * *

Venice

"_There are still no leads with the case of the Cantorini twins' disappearance. Felicia and Luciano Cantorini disappeared in front of their family's restaurant in Milan the 17__th__ of June…"_ A picture of two eleven-year-olds appeared on the screen. Lovino frowned. How could two children disappear like that? And why were there no leads? Even after a month? But the most pressing question was… how the hell he hadn't heard a word about this before? He was the one associating with mafia unlike Feliciano! Speaking of which…

"Ve~, it's horrible, isn't it?" The younger Italian brother appeared to the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen.

"Sì. But why is this the first time I hear about this?" Lovino did his best to stay calm. At least to keep his voice steady. The glare he aimed at Feliciano he couldn't stop and was somewhat pleased to see the other fidgeting under it and finding the floor extremely interesting.

"Mario and Alina Cantorini did go to polizia when this happened but everyone suspect mafia behind this. It took a while before the investigation properly began. Polizia has visited the mafia famiglias' houses several times but they were never found."

The house phone rang. Feliciano looked to the direction of the sound.

"Ve~… It must be Tino. Alina is from Finland you see and the twins go to school there." While the younger brother went to answer the phone, the elder of the two got up and headed to the hall.

"I'm off." He stated and grabbed his jacket. His duties with mafia were calling and maybe at the same time he could look into the Cantorini case.

* * *

An hour later Lovino had interviewed the Cantorini couple via cell phone. They lived in Milan so he couldn't just pop by. He had found out that the couple had bought a restaurant from a guy who apparently owed to the mafia famiglia in Naples. The guy had made a suicide a week later and not paid his debts. And for some reason the famiglia thought the couple was related to this guy and put the debt on them then. The Cantorini's – unaware of the debt – were now being blackmailed. Not directly since they knew nothing about the debt but that also meant they couldn't do anything for it. Which in turn meant that the kids were in danger.

* * *

Back to Naples

It was another day of work for Felicia and another day of abuse for Luciano. The girl shuffled her feet as the underboss of the famiglia gave her the instructions of the day.

"Miguel, you keep an eye on her. Vargas is coming to meet the boss today."

"Sì, signor." The Spaniard smiled vaguely and led Felicia to one of the large sitting rooms that she was supposed to clean up during the day. It was actually right next to the room where Miguel had met Lovino for the first time.

"Who is Vargas?" The girl asked as she took a feather duster.

"He is some sort of mediator between famiglias. I'm not sure what his exact position is. He is greatly respected thought." Vague answer the best answer. And it was true too. Miguel still didn't really know the man outside of him delivering Miguel's letters home.

"Okay…" Felicia walked to the giant bookshelf on one wall and started dusting the lowest shelves.

* * *

"_Signor Vargas, how nice to meet you again. What brings you here this time? Especially considering how short time it has been from our last meeting…"_

Luciano heard voices from the room next to the one he was stored in. With him was yet another thug who was pointing his head with a pistol.

"If you say one word, you'll die and so will your _sorella_."

"Bastard…" Luciano muttered and leaned against the pipes behind his back. Not the most comfortable position especially with his hands tied to them but nevertheless allowed him to eavesdrop the conversation through the thin wall(hey, it was an old house!).

"_Nothing special. I'm just making the routine check in all famiglias. The order has changed."_ Another voice answered. It was quite young, even younger than Miguel's and that was saying something considering that the man was 25 or something.

* * *

"Miguel… Could I have a glass of water, please? The dust is making my throat hurt." Felicia asked after finishing dusting the bookshelf.

"Okay, just don't leave this room. I'll be right back."

"I'll sit right here." Felicia sat on the floor and leaned against the bookshelf. She could take a short break now and then continue with the furniture and paintings. The carpets were for tomorrow. Yes, she'd just rest for a moment…

* * *

"Thank you for visiting, Signor Vargas. I trust you know the way out."

"Sí. This was a pleasure as always." Lovino nodded albeit having a bored expression on his face. Internally he was gritting his teeth. "Ciao." With that he left the dark toned and pompous office.

"_Okay, just don't leave this room. I'll be right back."_ He heard from the end of the corridor, the opposite way from the stairs leading to the lower floor. He also heard some hurried steps coming to his direction. Lovino ducked into an alcove and watched Miguel Verdacia hurrying past. He frowned. Who was in that other room? Miguel wasn't in a position to give orders to anyone in the famiglia. Lovino headed to the direction the Spaniard had come from.

One door was ajar. It was one of those unused rooms in the house. Carefully the personifiacation of the country peeked in. To say he was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. And that was saying something.

In the far end of the room, leaning against the bookshelf and slightly dozing off, was Felicia Cantorini, one of the missing twins. She was wearing the same green dress she'd worn when she'd disappeared. Her socks and shoes were missing but she had been given an apron and a scarf to keep her chin-length hair out of her face. Next to her was a feather duster and a bucket with a mop and a rag.

Quietly Lovino slipped into the room and walked to the girl. He sat opposite her and scrutinized her appearance. She was malnourished and looked like she hadn't washed properly for a while, maybe only one or twice since the capture.

"Signor Vargas?" A voice gasped from the door.

"Ciao Miguel." Lovino muttered indifferently. "How long has she been here?"

"Since the kidnapping. Two days since your last visit." Miguel sat next to the man and placed a bottle of water on the floor. Lovino tilted his head at the bruises on Felicia's face and arms. He took gently her hand and brushed a thumb over the rope marks on her wrist. Miguel stayed silent as he could definitely see the Italian's temper rising steadily. But then he decided to speak.

"Luciano is worse. Felicia is made to work to feed them both."

"Polizia has been here several times and they have not been found. Why?"

"They've been held in a secret room…" Miguel sighed. "Neither of them want to die.

"Someone's there to keep them silent."

"Yes. The usual 'stay silent or your brother dies', 'stay silent of your sister dies' and 'stay silent or we send someone after your parents'."

At that moment Felicia's eyes flickered open. At first she saw Lovino, unknown person to her. She gasped and curled up, her knees acting as a shield.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I-."

"Felicia, it's alright." Miguel assured the girl who launched herself on his neck immediately. "He won't hurt you. Here's the water I brought." He took the bottle and settled the girl sitting comfortably on his lap. Felicia took the bottle.

"Grazie." She thanked quietly and started drinking, not taking her eyes off Lovino.

"What's your name, bambina?" The nation asked gently.

"Felicia Olivia Cantorini. And you… Signor?"

"I'm Lovino Romano Vargas."

Felicia's eyes widened and she tried to scoot even closer to Miguel.

"It's alright. Signor Vargas won't hurt you." The Spaniard assured the girl.

"But…"

"Where is your brother?" Lovino asked, still keeping his voice gentle.

"Don't hurt him… I do anything, don't hurt him." Tears were now falling down her cheeks. Miguel sighed and hugged the girl tightly.

"Signor Vargas is a good guy, Felicia. He won't hurt either of you." He explained quietly while the girl cried. Lovino in the other hand was shocked by the girl's reaction.

"Miguel… What exactly did you mean by Luciano being worse?" He asked, getting up. Miguel followed the suit while keeping Felicia on his arms. The girl was still sniffing.

"Hey, Felicia… Let's go to check your brother. Everyone else has already left so no one will notice."

"But the room…" She whispered.

"No one uses this one so no one will notice."

"Okay…"

* * *

The three of them left the room and headed towards the secret room through deserted corridors. Miguel opened one door that looked more like a piece of wall and let Felicia down. The girl dashed immediately into the room.

"Luciano? Luci, you… okay?" Felicia asked while kneeling next to her brother. Miguel stepped into the room too while Lovino stayed in the doorway.

"'m fine…" The boy mumbled. His head was hanging low and eyes were hidden by his copper brown hair that hung limply in front of his face. He was wearing grey shorts and a short-sleeved, green button-up shirt. His socks and shoes were also gone.

"The-They didn't hurt you too badly?" Felicia's voice was quivering. She knew the answer but at the same time she had to ask.

"Those bastards should just fuck off." Luciano muttered, finally raising his head. He looked first at Felicia, then at Miguel. When he noticed Lovino, his eyes narrowed. "You are the guy who talked with the biggest son of a bitch here."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I belong to the same league with that bastard." Lovino retorted.

"Uh-huh? I heard every word. You-…" But the sentence was interrupted when the boy winced in pain a doubled over again.

"Luciano calm down." Miguel sighed. "Signor Vargas doesn't belong to this or any other famiglia."

"Are you beaten every day?" Lovino asked then, uncharacteristic concern in his voice.

"About, yeah…"

"Badly?"

A nod.

"I thought so."

"Why did you ask then, bastard?!" Luciano shouted only to wince again. Miguel was next to him in a flash and gently pressed the boy's chest and sides.

"A couple of cracked ribs." The Spaniard sighed.

"Miguel… You want to go home, right?" Lovino asked suddenly.

"Sì, Signor."

"Prepare then, I'm coming tomorrow to get you three out of here."

The twins stared at the nation in shock while a small smile found its way to Miguel's face.

"I'll be back around noon." Lovino stated then and left. Once outside the house, he dialed a well-known number.

"Feliciano, get the Cantorini's from Milan come to Naples. I've found where the twins are."

* * *

On the next day, exactly 12 o'clock, the doorbell rang. The mafia member who opened the door was greeted by a barrel of a gun.

"I've come here to get the Cantorini twins. If you want to keep your brains intact and inside your skull, you bastard, you'll let me in and won't say a word." Lovino growled. The threatened man nodded mutely and stepped aside. Immediately Lovino hit the man in the face and he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

"Oi, Miguel!" South Italy hollered to the stairs. Instead of the Spaniard, another guy(thug or hitman, who cares) appeared a top of the stairs.

"Signor Vargas? What are you doing here?"

"None of your business, dumbass." On that moment the other man tumbled down the stairs and Miguel appeared on his place. The young man took a look on Lovino's appearance (a tan WWII uniform) and quirked an eyebrow.

"When did the war start?"

"It never ended."

"The kids are in 'their' room with…" Miguel hesitated. "Sacro."

"Sacro? That bastard who can barely tie his own shoelaces?"

"Which is why he uses boots but yes, him."

Without wasting any more words, Lovino stormed to the second floor, Miguel hot on his heels.

* * *

"Don't touch her, bastard!" Luciano yelled at a giant of a man who had Felicia suspended in the air. The girl struggled against the large palms, one of which was holding her bound wrists and the other one covering her mouth and muffling her screams. And screaming Felicia tried, and kicking too.

"Let her go you son of a bitch! You piece of shit! You overgrown smelly ass of a donkey!" Lused all of his colorful vocabulary to get the man's attention off from Felicia. It succeeded. Partly. Luciano earned a kick into his stomach but Felicia was still up in the air.

Upon seeing her brother receive the thug's anger, Felicia made her decision. She wriggled her face to a different position and bit the hand that had been covering her mouth. With a yell, the man let go of her and she fell on the floor.

"Little pest…" The giant grunted and drew a gun. "You will pay for that."

Felicia froze to stare the barrel of the gun. Luciano froze too but a second later he was struggling against his binds again.

"No! Non!"

A hand closed around Felicia's throat and threw her across the room where she stayed, unmoving after hitting the wall.

"Felicia! Felicia, wake up!" The gun was pointing at her again.

**BANG**

Blood. Blood everywhere. The giant man was lying on the floor, a pool of blood forming beneath him. Luciano looked up to see Lovino and Miguel in the doorway and the gun the southern Italian was holding was smoking. The silence after the gunshot was deafening. Lovino strode into the room and swiftly cut the rope that bind Luciano's wrists to the pipes running along the wall. The boy stumbled on the floor. He reached a hand towards his unmoving sister.

"Feli…" His voice trembled as his hand closed around the girl's. Miguel crouched next to her and lifted her up.

"We need to hurry. Luciano, can you stand?" The Spaniard asked.

"No, you idiot. I haven't stood since I came here." And the boy was back his crouchy self.

"Right then." Lovino hooked an arm around the boy and lifted his off the floor with a surprising ease. Luciano's feet tangled helplessly and she seemed very displeased about the situation. Nevertheless he wrapped his arms around the man's neck to support himself. Anything to get out of that hell hole.

"Let's go." Miguel ran out of the door, Lovino following him closely.

* * *

Unfortunately the gunshot didn't go unnoticed by the few people who were also in the house. Another shot rang. Lovino stumbled but kept running. Luciano's eyes widened as he saw a red stain forming on the man's back, blood clearly visible on the light color of the uniform. The boy – without giving any second thoughts to the idea – seized the gun Lovino had tucked to the back of his belt and fired once. The bullet ripped through the air and hit the man who had shot at Lovino.

"_I hope he dies to that…" _Luciano thought bitterly.

* * *

By some sort of miracle all four of them got into Lovino's car. Miguel started the engine with the keys that had been left there. The rest sat on the back seat, Felicia unconscious, Lovino in pain of the shot and shock of Luciano's actions and the boy… He was calmly unloading the gun a putting a safety on.

"You shot at that bastard." The nation stated after few minutes of fast and not-quite-reckless driving. Thankfully Miguel knew the streets like the backs of his hands and had managed to shake the mafia off right at the beginning.

"He shot at you." Luciano answered simply. "And he has hurt me and Felicia."

"Right, you idiot…" Lovino pulled out his cellphone and after taking the gun from the boy next to him, he pressed the call button.

"Yeah, I got them… We are on our way to Ospedale di Santa Maria." A short silence fell. "What the hell is that tomato bastard doing here?"

* * *

They arrived to the hospital where nurses and doctors were waiting for them along with Cantorinis, Feliciano and Antonio. Lovino threw a jacket on his shoulders to conceal the bullet wound which had already healed. He carefully lifted Luciano to a wheelchair. Felicia had woken up sometime during the ride and was now carried by Miguel.

"Äiti!" Alina Cantorini ran forward and lifted the girl from the Spaniard's arms, both females crying as they embraced each other. Mario came forwards too and ruffled Luciano's hair.

"Thank god you both are alright." He smiled to the boy.

"I did my best to keep Felicia safe." Luciano sighed tiredly.

"I know." Mario got on his knees and hugged his son. "I know…"

* * *

"Polizia is already heading to arrest that famiglia." Feliciano smiled.

"Bene." Lovino nodded wearily.

"You alright Lovi?" Antonio placed a hand on the elder Italy brother's shoulder.

"I got shot." Lovino dug a bloodied bullet from his pocket. "On the back."

"Ve~h?!"

"I'm fine idiota. The adrenaline healed it already."

"Signor Vargas?" A voice asked next to the trio. Miguel was standing there.

"Miguel, you don't need to call me like that anymore. We are not inside the house." Lovino muttered.

"Lo siento. I'm too used to it I guess." The man smiled, switching momentary to his native language. "I just wanted say… Gracias."

"You're welcome." Lovino grumbled. "What are you going to do now then?"

"I… I guess I'm going home. So many years here without talking or seeing them… Yeah, I guess it's time to go back to Barcelona. I miss my family." Miguel's cellphone started to ring. He had purchased it a couple of weeks after being acquaintaned with Lovino. "Wha-?" He stared at the number which he identified as his old home number.

"I took the liberty of giving your number to your family. They know everything now."

"But-."

"Just answer it."

And that Miguel did. When he heard who had called, tears appeared in his eyes. Lovino smiled slightly before allowing Feliciano and Antonio hug him just this once.

"¿Hola?... ¿A-Alonso? Sí… hermano aqui. Estoy yendo a casa."

* * *

A few days later Lovino went to visit the Cantorini twins in the hospital. He saw Felicia sitting on her bed and leaning against pillows while talking with someone via laptop on the table in front of her. The girl's mother walked into the room and gave her a can of lemonade. Luciano was nowhere to be seen but the nation had a good inkling where the boy was.

The sky was bright blue and the sun was warming Luciano's face while the wind fluttered his now clean hair. He was sitting on his wheelchair on the roof of the hospital. He could already walk quite well but after a month of not using his legs at all, he got exhausted quickly. Thus the use of the wheelchair.

"Ciao, Lovino." Luciano said without opening his eyes. The man looked at him for a second before stepping forward to stand next to him.

"How did you…?" The nation frowned.

"You tell me. I just know it was you." The boy shrugged, opening his eyes in process.

"I don't know." Lovino grumbled.

"Liar."

"I'm not, you ragazzo idiota!"

"Yes, you are. At least in this matter."

If Lovino was shocked by the boy's sudden maturity, he didn't show it.

"Miguel left yesterday to Barcelona." Luciano continued.

"I know. Tomato bastard went with him."

"Tomato bastard? That Spanish guy with your brother when we arrived here?"

"Yes." Lovino walked around the wheelchair and sat down on a bench next to it. "How are you Luciano?"

"I'm fine. Healing. Better than Felicia anyways."

"How so?"

"… She has amnesia. Partial one. She forgot all details of what happened in the house. She only knows cleaning a lot, being hungry and that I was hurt. She doesn't even remember Miguel or you." Luciano frowned. "She forgot completely how to speak Italian. I suppose it's a coping mechanism since everyone in the house spoke it. Father is upset because he doesn't speak Finnish that well to communicate with her properly."

"Oh…"

"But I suppose it's going to be alright eventually." The boy sighed and took his Nintendo DS what he had put aside earlier and started playing with it.

"I hope so too." Lovino got up. "Let's go inside, I'll buy you a drink."

"Okay." Without letting the boy start rolling the wheels, the personification of South Italy took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed the boy towards the elevator.

* * *

While going through the corridors and playing the DS, Luciano bombarded Lovino with questions.

"What was that Spaniards name? The one you call tomato bastard?"

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo."

"Why do you call him tomato bastard?"

"I just do."

"How do you know him?"

"…I used to live with him as akid. He's annoying. Always calling me 'Lovi' or 'mi tomate'."

"Comparing you to a tomato? I see where your name for him comes from." Luciano smirked, ending his game finally and putting the console aside.

"He grows tomatoes in his backyard!"

"And that justifies everything." The boy deadpanned.

"He's too clingy and touchy-feely."

"Sounds a bit like Felicia then. Hey, what's your brother's name? I see you two are about the same age." Luciano leaned back in the wheelchair and looked up at Lovino. The man looked away. "Well?"

"Feliciano Veneziano Vargas. He's my younger brother. Everyone is fawning over him." Lovino muttered darkly.

"I understand. Felicia is also always being fawned over. She's the little angel and mummy's girl. But she's also the one with less freedom." They had stopped by a vending machine. "I'm the elder one of us two and I'm a boy so it's my responsibility to take care of her when our parents can't. And I'm fine with it."

"…What do you want to drink?"

"Just something."

* * *

During the following week Lovino visited Luciano every single day to talk about everyday things and what was in their lives. The boy got his spicy nature back every visit along with his strength to walk. In no time the two were having playful cussing competitions.

"The Cantorini's? They were released today. I heard they're heading back to Finland. After all the twins' school starts in a few weeks." A nurse who had taken care of the twins told the nation when he had arrived only to find the hospital room empty.

"Did Luciano say anything?"

"He left this." The nurse gave him a simple postcard which Lovino took. The card had his name on it and only one sentence written in it.

_Grazie, tomato face.  
but who the heck are you?_

* * *

**A/N: As you can see Felicia and Luciano resemble greatly the Italy brothers. They are not copies though and you'll find it out in the next chapter which is the aftermath of this one(kinda). And yeah, Felicia was a bit Chibitalia-ish in that house.**

**And now the translations(I don't put the most obvious ones):**

**Aiuto! Aiuto! Aiutaemi! = Help! Help! Help me! (Italian)**

**cara sorella = dear sister (Italian)**

**bambina = little girl (Italian)**

**ragazzo idiota = idiot boy (Italian)**

**Äiti = Mother (Finnish)**

**Lo siento. = I'm sorry./My apologies. (Spanish)**

**¿Hola?... ¿A-Alonso? Sí… hermano aqui. Estoy yendo a casa. = Hello?... A-Alonso? Yes... brother here. I'm coming home.**

**.**

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**I guess that's it for this time. Next one come some day. Mean while review please! Reviews are my food, I need them! See ya! ;)**


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